tell Pa about the terrible wish he’d made. “Pa,” he began, “when I was at the Church Social last Saturday, I saw a little man in a white suit. He told me…”
“Adam, be still!” ordered his mother sharply. “Your pa’s in no mood to hear about your frivolous goings-on.”
“But Ma, I—”
“That’s enough, Adam!” Ma whacked his wrist hard with her teaspoon. Adam couldn’t remember another time when Ma had struck him in anger.
“I’ll be quiet, Ma,” he said in a whisper.
Later, as he was getting ready for bed, Adam heard a new noise above the hissing of the spouts and the drumming on the roof and the tink-tink of the drip from the ceiling. It was water, running and trickling as if into a still pool. But thesound was coming from just underneath the floor on which his bed sat.
Pa appeared at the door of his room, holding a lantern.
“The water’s reached the cellar windows,” he told Adam. “It’s coming inside now. Tomorrow we’ll have to move out.”
W hen Adam got up Thursday morning, he looked out the window first thing. There was a big lake all around the house, lapping against the foundation. Much of the barn was underwater. The five spouts were gushing as strong as ever, and the drumming sound on the roof was loud in Adam’s ears.
Quickly he pulled on his clothes and went into the kitchen. The roof there was leaking now—leaking badly. Pails and pots and pans were all over the floor, each one catching its own drip from the ceiling. Ma stood at the stove. She was wearing her black rubber raincoat and hat, and in one hand she held an open umbrella. With the other she flipped an egg in the skillet. A drop of water hit the umbrella, rolled off, and hissedas it hit the hot stove.
“You shouldn’t be cooking this morning,” Adam told her. “We could get along without breakfast this once.”
“I’ve cooked breakfast at this stove every day since your pa built this house,” she replied. “I’m not about to give it up now, even if it is our last day here.”
In her own way, thought Adam, Ma could be just as stubborn as Pa.
“Ahoy, the house!” Adam heard Pa cry from somewhere outside. “Ready yourselves. Captain Fiske is coming into harbor!”
Ma threw open the back door, and Adam saw a sight stranger than he’d ever expected. There was Pa, soaked to the skin, standing on what looked to be some kind of a raft. The frame was heavy wooden beams, notched at odd places. Underneath, a barrel was fastened at each corner to make the craft float high in the water, and the whole thing was tied together with cords, baling wire, and heavy ropes. Pa stood at the rear with a long pole in his hands, using it to push the raft ahead.
“This here’s parts of the chickenhouse and the horse stalls,” he said. “I had to tear apart a fewthings down in the barn to get what I needed.”
“It…it’s a fine raft, Pa,” said Adam.
“The water’ll rise and flood the first floor in a few hours,” said Pa. “We’ll have to raft the furniture and such to high ground while there’s still time.” He pointed toward where a little hill marked the beginning of the Jenks farm.
“Before we start,” said Adam, “let me tell you about the wish…and the little man at the Church Social…and—”
“No time for idle chitchat now, Adam,” said Pa. “The water’s coming up fast, and we’ve got to get a move on. I’ll sail this thing around to the front, where those spouts won’t be dropping water on us. You go through the parlor and unlock the door for me. Toot! Toot!” Pa pretended to pull on the rope of a boat whistle.
“How that man can make jokes at a time like this is beyond me,” Ma told Adam.
He opened the front door just as Pa poled his way around the corner of the house. Pa threw Adam a rope, and between them they soon had the raft bobbing just outside the door.
“The davenport goes first,” Pa said. “And maybe one of those straight chairs. We can’t put too
“Adam, be still!” ordered his mother sharply. “Your pa’s in no mood to hear about your frivolous goings-on.”
“But Ma, I—”
“That’s enough, Adam!” Ma whacked his wrist hard with her teaspoon. Adam couldn’t remember another time when Ma had struck him in anger.
“I’ll be quiet, Ma,” he said in a whisper.
Later, as he was getting ready for bed, Adam heard a new noise above the hissing of the spouts and the drumming on the roof and the tink-tink of the drip from the ceiling. It was water, running and trickling as if into a still pool. But thesound was coming from just underneath the floor on which his bed sat.
Pa appeared at the door of his room, holding a lantern.
“The water’s reached the cellar windows,” he told Adam. “It’s coming inside now. Tomorrow we’ll have to move out.”
W hen Adam got up Thursday morning, he looked out the window first thing. There was a big lake all around the house, lapping against the foundation. Much of the barn was underwater. The five spouts were gushing as strong as ever, and the drumming sound on the roof was loud in Adam’s ears.
Quickly he pulled on his clothes and went into the kitchen. The roof there was leaking now—leaking badly. Pails and pots and pans were all over the floor, each one catching its own drip from the ceiling. Ma stood at the stove. She was wearing her black rubber raincoat and hat, and in one hand she held an open umbrella. With the other she flipped an egg in the skillet. A drop of water hit the umbrella, rolled off, and hissedas it hit the hot stove.
“You shouldn’t be cooking this morning,” Adam told her. “We could get along without breakfast this once.”
“I’ve cooked breakfast at this stove every day since your pa built this house,” she replied. “I’m not about to give it up now, even if it is our last day here.”
In her own way, thought Adam, Ma could be just as stubborn as Pa.
“Ahoy, the house!” Adam heard Pa cry from somewhere outside. “Ready yourselves. Captain Fiske is coming into harbor!”
Ma threw open the back door, and Adam saw a sight stranger than he’d ever expected. There was Pa, soaked to the skin, standing on what looked to be some kind of a raft. The frame was heavy wooden beams, notched at odd places. Underneath, a barrel was fastened at each corner to make the craft float high in the water, and the whole thing was tied together with cords, baling wire, and heavy ropes. Pa stood at the rear with a long pole in his hands, using it to push the raft ahead.
“This here’s parts of the chickenhouse and the horse stalls,” he said. “I had to tear apart a fewthings down in the barn to get what I needed.”
“It…it’s a fine raft, Pa,” said Adam.
“The water’ll rise and flood the first floor in a few hours,” said Pa. “We’ll have to raft the furniture and such to high ground while there’s still time.” He pointed toward where a little hill marked the beginning of the Jenks farm.
“Before we start,” said Adam, “let me tell you about the wish…and the little man at the Church Social…and—”
“No time for idle chitchat now, Adam,” said Pa. “The water’s coming up fast, and we’ve got to get a move on. I’ll sail this thing around to the front, where those spouts won’t be dropping water on us. You go through the parlor and unlock the door for me. Toot! Toot!” Pa pretended to pull on the rope of a boat whistle.
“How that man can make jokes at a time like this is beyond me,” Ma told Adam.
He opened the front door just as Pa poled his way around the corner of the house. Pa threw Adam a rope, and between them they soon had the raft bobbing just outside the door.
“The davenport goes first,” Pa said. “And maybe one of those straight chairs. We can’t put too
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