Christian fiction; Families -- Fiction; Love stories
"Wait'll you see the dining-room!" called Harley, who was investigating
with the help of his nose. "_Some_ supper-table! Come on quick; I'm
starved. Hello! Hustle here quick. Here's another sign-board!"
They followed to the dining-room. Harley, still following his nose,
pursued his investigations to the kitchen, discovered the source of the
savory odors that were pervading the place, and raised another cry so
appreciative that the entire family, with the exception of the invalid,
followed him and found the supper steaming hot and crying to be eaten.
After the excitement was somewhat quieted Shirley took command.
"Now, children, you're getting mother all excited, and this won't do.
And, besides, we must eat this supper right away before it spoils.
Quiet down, and bring the hot things to the table while I get mother's
things off. Then we will tell her all about it. There's plenty of
time, you know. We're going to stay right here all summer."
"Aw, gee! Can't we bring mother out to the table?" pleaded George.
"Harley and I could lift that couch just as easy."
"Why, I don't know," said Shirley, hesitating. "You know she isn't
strong, and she will worry about your lifting her."
"Oh Shirley, let her come," pleaded Carol. "We could all take hold and
wheel the couch out here; you know the floor is real smooth since those
new boards were put in, and there are good castors on the couch."
"Mother! Mother! You're coming out to supper!" they chorused, rushing
back to the living-room; and before the invalid realized what was
happening her couch was being wheeled carefully, gleefully into the
brilliantly lighted dining-room, with Doris like a fairy sprite dancing
attendance, and shouting joyously:
"Mudder's tumin' to suppy! Mudder's tumin' to suppy adin!"
The mother gazed in amazement at the royally spread table, so smothered
in flowers that she failed to recognize the cracked old blue dishes.
"Children, I insist," she raised her voice above the happy din. "I
insist on knowing immediately what all this means. Where are we, and
what is this? A hotel? And who was the person who brought us here? I
cannot eat anything nor stay here another minute until I know. People
can't rent houses like this for ten dollars a month anywhere, and I
didn't suppose we had come to charity, even if I am laid up for a few
days."
Shirley could see the hurt in her mother's eyes and the quick alarm in
her voice, and came around to her couch, smiling.
"Now, mother dear, we'll tell you the whole thing. It isn't a hotel
we're in, and it isn't a house at all. It's only an old barn!"
"A barn!" Mrs. Hollister sat up on her couch alertly, and looked at
the big bowl of roses in the middle of the table, at the soft, flowing
curtains at the window and the great pot of Easter lilies on the little
stand in front, and exclaimed, "Impossible!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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