minute we got here that they’re both exhausted. If I have anything to say about it, Thelma and Elma will be home before Christmas.
“Are you girls having trouble with your water tank?” Dad asked the following morning during breakfast. “Your mamm had a cold shower last night.”
Thelma gulped. Last night she’d planned to ask Dad to take a look at it but had gotten so caught up in visiting and completely forgot. “I know, and I’m sorry about that, Mom.” She handed Dad a fresh cup of coffee. “It’s not heating like it should. The other day I noticed a puddle of water in the basement near the tank.”
“Really?” Elma turned from the stove, where she was frying sausage. “How come you never mentioned it to me?”
“You knew about the cold showers,” Thelma reminded.
“Jah, but this is the first I’ve heard about water on the basement floor.” Elma frowned.
“I only saw it one time and figured it could have been from something else.”
“I’ll go down and take a look as soon as breakfast is over.” Dad reached over and tapped Elma’s arm as she set the pan of breakfast sausage on a pot holder in the middle of the table.
“I’ll go with you,” Thelma was quick to say. She still hadn’t told Elma about Misty and the kittens. She sure didn’t want her finding out about them today. With Mom here, she’d probably side with Elma, and the kittens would have to be taken out to the barn. Ever since the twins were little, it seemed like Mom sided more with Elma on things than she did Thelma. It wasn’t that she loved Elma more; they just had similar likes and dislikes.
Wanting to change the subject, Thelma brought up the box of pillowcases they’d found in the upstairs closet.
“That’s right.” Elma glanced at Mom and Dad before starting to fry some eggs to go with the sausage. “We found this box of beautiful pillowcases Grandma must have embroidered. They look like they’ve never been used.”
“There are several sets of them, and we’ll keep a few,” Thelma added. “But before we sell any of them in the store, we thought maybe you and Mom would like to have some, since your mamm embroidered them.” She brought over a plate of toast and handed it to Dad.
Before Dad could respond, Mom said, “I would think about that before you decide to sell any of them. Your daed and I could use some new pillowcases, so I may take a few sets. Why don’t you and Elma keep the rest? You could regret it later on if you sell them.”
“Mom may be right,” Elma said while using a spatula to put an egg on each of their plates. “Maybe we should keep all of the pillowcases—in case we ever get married.”
Thelma nodded. “She did do a beautiful job on them, and who knows, we may have a use for them sometime in the future.”
Thelma and Elma pulled out chairs and sat down at the same time. “I’m glad we talked about this,” Elma said. “Sometimes I’m too quick to get rid of things; then later, I regret my decision.”
“I think we’ve all done that at one time or another,” Dad commented; then he bowed his head. “Let’s pray.”
When the prayers ended, they visited some more. Thelma was in a good mood, happy that she hadn’t burned the toast. But all too soon, the joy of the moment was gone when Mom, who had poured herself a glass of orange juice, let out an ear-piercing scream. “Ach, there’s a
gross
maus eating the bread we left on the counter!”
All heads turned in the direction she was pointing. “That’s not a big mouse,” Dad said, his eyes widening. “It’s a
ratt
!”
“A rat?” Mom and Elma shouted in unison. Faces pale, they both jumped on their chairs, jarring the kitchen table. Mom’s orange juice spilled, and Elma’s fork flew off her plate and clanked on the floor.
Thelma groaned. It was bad enough that they’d had some mice in their house. Now this?
“I’ll take care of that unwanted creature!” Dad leaped out of his chair, grabbed a broom
“Are you girls having trouble with your water tank?” Dad asked the following morning during breakfast. “Your mamm had a cold shower last night.”
Thelma gulped. Last night she’d planned to ask Dad to take a look at it but had gotten so caught up in visiting and completely forgot. “I know, and I’m sorry about that, Mom.” She handed Dad a fresh cup of coffee. “It’s not heating like it should. The other day I noticed a puddle of water in the basement near the tank.”
“Really?” Elma turned from the stove, where she was frying sausage. “How come you never mentioned it to me?”
“You knew about the cold showers,” Thelma reminded.
“Jah, but this is the first I’ve heard about water on the basement floor.” Elma frowned.
“I only saw it one time and figured it could have been from something else.”
“I’ll go down and take a look as soon as breakfast is over.” Dad reached over and tapped Elma’s arm as she set the pan of breakfast sausage on a pot holder in the middle of the table.
“I’ll go with you,” Thelma was quick to say. She still hadn’t told Elma about Misty and the kittens. She sure didn’t want her finding out about them today. With Mom here, she’d probably side with Elma, and the kittens would have to be taken out to the barn. Ever since the twins were little, it seemed like Mom sided more with Elma on things than she did Thelma. It wasn’t that she loved Elma more; they just had similar likes and dislikes.
Wanting to change the subject, Thelma brought up the box of pillowcases they’d found in the upstairs closet.
“That’s right.” Elma glanced at Mom and Dad before starting to fry some eggs to go with the sausage. “We found this box of beautiful pillowcases Grandma must have embroidered. They look like they’ve never been used.”
“There are several sets of them, and we’ll keep a few,” Thelma added. “But before we sell any of them in the store, we thought maybe you and Mom would like to have some, since your mamm embroidered them.” She brought over a plate of toast and handed it to Dad.
Before Dad could respond, Mom said, “I would think about that before you decide to sell any of them. Your daed and I could use some new pillowcases, so I may take a few sets. Why don’t you and Elma keep the rest? You could regret it later on if you sell them.”
“Mom may be right,” Elma said while using a spatula to put an egg on each of their plates. “Maybe we should keep all of the pillowcases—in case we ever get married.”
Thelma nodded. “She did do a beautiful job on them, and who knows, we may have a use for them sometime in the future.”
Thelma and Elma pulled out chairs and sat down at the same time. “I’m glad we talked about this,” Elma said. “Sometimes I’m too quick to get rid of things; then later, I regret my decision.”
“I think we’ve all done that at one time or another,” Dad commented; then he bowed his head. “Let’s pray.”
When the prayers ended, they visited some more. Thelma was in a good mood, happy that she hadn’t burned the toast. But all too soon, the joy of the moment was gone when Mom, who had poured herself a glass of orange juice, let out an ear-piercing scream. “Ach, there’s a
gross
maus eating the bread we left on the counter!”
All heads turned in the direction she was pointing. “That’s not a big mouse,” Dad said, his eyes widening. “It’s a
ratt
!”
“A rat?” Mom and Elma shouted in unison. Faces pale, they both jumped on their chairs, jarring the kitchen table. Mom’s orange juice spilled, and Elma’s fork flew off her plate and clanked on the floor.
Thelma groaned. It was bad enough that they’d had some mice in their house. Now this?
“I’ll take care of that unwanted creature!” Dad leaped out of his chair, grabbed a broom
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