Although assured by their parents that they would love their new home, the Haley children were nonetheless upset when told that they would be moving to Glenburn; and when June 1st came their minds had not been swayed.
“But I don’t want to leave my friends,” Lillian pleaded to her mother.
“Me neither, Mama,” Arlene said. “I….”
“Calm down, girls, and stop your whining. Life is full of changes. You’ll make new friends in Glenburn. You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to make new friends; I like the ones I have. And I won’t go!” Lillian yelled.
“You don’t have any choice, young lady,” Murdock said with conviction. “Now go to your room and start packing.”
“Mama! Papa! Pleeease! I start high school in the fall. I don’t want to ride the doggoned trolley to Bangor every day.”
“I know it’ll be a mite inconvenient for you, Lillian, but you’ll survive. After all….”
“But it’s not fair,” Arlene pleaded.
“I’m sorry, girls, but your father and I have made up our minds. We can’t live here any longer. And that’s that. It’s just too dangerous for you in this neighborhood, so quit your bellyaching and do as your father says; get upstairs and start packing.”
Even Leona was upset about the pending move. She loved her peaceful little bedroom overlooking Palm Street, and she couldn’t bare the thought of leaving it and Chapin Park forever.
“But I like playing in the park,” the little girl pleaded.
“So do I,” Arlene said.
“I know this has always been your home, but you’ll get used to your new one in Glenburn. And before long you’ll like it there, even better than here,” Margaret told her girls, praying that she would be proven right. “And besides, you’ll get to see Grandma Eunice every day now. Now, do as I say: Get in the house and start packing. And no more ands, ifs, or buts.”
When it came time to leave, Murdock and Margaret were seated in the front seat of a fully loaded wagon that Murdock had borrowed from Bobby. Sitting between them was Leona, and cuddled in Margaret’s lap was little Wally. Looking down at its muscular back, Murdock marveled at Bobby’s beautiful chestnut horse. Then he reached for the reins with his right hand, and for the wagon’s brake with his left.
“Are you kids seated?” he asked. “It’s time to go, so hang on tight.”
“Wait a minute, Papa,” Arlene said. “Lillian’s not here yet.”
“Lillian!” Margaret shouted. “Lil—li—an!”
After waiting for a response, Margaret turned to Arlene.
“Where is your sister anyway?”
“She’s still packing her bag,” Arlene answered.
“What in Sam Hill’s wrong with that girl?” Murdock wondered. “She’s slower than death.”
“Tell me about it,” Margaret said. “I swear to God, she’ll be late for her own funeral. Arlene, go hurry up your sister, will you?”
“Okay, but don’t blame me if she doesn’t show up anytime soon; I’m not a miracle worker. If God couldn’t get her moving, how can I?”
“Never you mind, young lady! Just go get her!”
Arlene ran into the house yelling: “Lillian, get your butt in gear! Mama and Papa are waiting; and you’re gonna be in hot water with ‘em if you don’t hurry up. Papa says if you aren’t in the wagon in two minutes, you’re gonna walk to Glenburn. So, get a move on.”
As usual, Lillian still didn’t make it out of the house on time, so when she came running out the door the 14-year-old was relieved to see that the wagon was still there waiting for her. Though, her relief quickly turned to anxiety when she looked up at her parents and thought they seemed slightly irritated. Lowering her head and diverting her eyes from their gaze, she climbed as fast as she could onto the back of the wagon, afraid to say anything. Once onboard, Lillian looked up and saw her father’s head shaking from side to side, a gesture that was all too familiar to the elder Haley girl. However, what she didn’t see was the look on her parents’ faces. They were intentionally looking straight ahead, so the teenager could not see the look in their eyes, nor the smile on her father’s face, or the grin on her mother’s.
When Lillian was seated on the wagon, she spoke meekly:
“Okay, Papa, I’m here. We can leave now.”
“Did you hear something, Maggie?”
“Yeah, Murdy, I thought I heard one of our girls say something. But it didn’t sound like either Arlene or Leona.”
“Well then, it must have been the late Lillian Haley. She must be back from the dead.”
Everyone laughed, but no one laughed harder than a relieved Lillian, especially after she heard her father’s deep baritone laughter.
“We’re off,” Murdock announced as he reached again for the reins and the brake. Then he said “giddy-yup” and the wagon suddenly jerked forward when Bobby’s beautiful gelding was started on its way.
“Careful, Murdy. We’re all gonna have whiplash if you keep that up.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I guess Bobby’s horse was anxious to get under way. He must have less patience with Lillian than I do. Is that right, Brown Beauty?”
Right on cue the horse snorted, and again the Haleys laughed. From his driveway, Murdock turned right onto Palm Street and drove the wagon to Stillwater Avenue where he turned left, heading to Broadway. After reaching the busy street and slowly, indeed cautiously, crossing the trolley tracks with the loaded wagon—even so, its contents were jostled about and the Haley girls had all they could do to hang on—Murdock turned right and headed north. Two miles later he made a left turn onto the Griffin Road, went about a mile, and then turned right onto Ohio Street, once again heading north toward Glenburn. Just after Murdock did that he noticed that Margaret had a smile on her face. He surmised that it was there because of her joy in knowing that she was going to be living a stone’s throw from her mother’s home, the place where she was born and raised. Just the same, he asked:
“What are you thinking, Maggie?”
The Haley matriarch turned to her husband and said:
“Glenburn, here we come!”
—1—
Murdock was taking it slow and easy with the fully loaded wagon, especially with his young children onboard; and on the Haleys’ long ride out Ohio Street, Margaret took the opportunity to point out things to her children. Although they had visited her mother in Glenburn a few times in the past, they had always taken the trolley out Broadway and then walked up a side road connecting Broadway and Ohio Street, so the little ones had never been on this part of Ohio Street before today.
When their wagon had traveled about a mile on Ohio Street, Margaret pointed to the left and spoke.
“That’s the church where we’ll be worshipping, and where you kids will be going to Sunday School—weather permitting.”
“Is this Glenburn?” Arlene asked.
“No, dear, we’re still in Bangor. We have another three miles to go before we come to Glenburn. I’ll let you know when we’re there.”
Just past the church the Haleys rode down a small but steep hill and a mile later saw a small school on the left, sitting just before two railroad tracks and a very long hill, “a good half-mile or more to the top,” Murdock estimated.
“See that school, Arlene?” Margaret said. “The one you and Leona will be attending in Glenburn is about that size, maybe a little smaller.”
Nearly three miles and more than thirty minutes later—after Bobby’s exhausted horse took what to Leona seemed “like forever” to pull the fully loaded wagon up the long, semi-steep hill—the Haleys came to a dairy farm on the right and, shortly thereafter, another on the left.
“It’s not much further, children,” Margaret said. “This here is the Fogg farm, where your grandma gets her milk.”
A quarter-mile further they came to a farm on the right. It was just before a short but fairly steep descending hill, and Margaret spoke again.
“Okay, kids we’re almost there. Down at the bottom of this hill is the Glenburn town line. And just at the top of that steep hill up ahead is where your Grandma lives. You can’t see her house yet, because of the forest, but I’m sure you remember this farmhouse here.”
“Oh yes, I recognize it now that we’re on this side of it,” Lillian said after turning around to get a look at the north side of the farmhouse. “I remember seeing it from the top of that hill; Grandma’s is up ahead on the right, right?”
“That’s right, dear,” Margaret joked.
“Boy, that hill up ahead looks wicked steep,” Leona said.
“It is,” her father replied. “Twice as steep as the one we’re about to go down.”
Then Margaret spoke up: When I was little I had lots of fun sledding on that hill, girls; and on the hills near our new home; and I suspect you will too.”
Indeed, Margaret spent an inordinate amount of time sledding on those hills, and she was glad that her children would now have that opportunity. As the wagon began down the less-steep hill, Murdock gently applied the brake to keep it from running away; and when it neared the bottom he let off the brake and said “giddy-yup” to Brown Beauty so the powerful equine would speed up and gain as much momentum as possible to pull the wagon up the “wicked-steep” hill. Even though it was quite muscular, Bobby’s horse struggled to pull the fully loaded wagon up the steepest part of the hill, so Murdock pulled back on the reins and said:
“Okay, everyone jump off and help push the wagon the rest of the way up this hill before Brown Beauty has a heart attack. Here, Maggie, you take the reins; I’ll help the children push.”
“Okay, Murdy, but watch out for little Wally.”
“Don’t you worry, Maggie, I’ll keep him right by my side.”
As Margaret walked beside the wagon, holding the reins and urging the horse onward, Murdock and the children pushed with all their might on the back of the wagon. Leona laughed when she saw Wally trying to push on it too. He was so short that he could barely reach its body, especially standing downhill from it as he was now, even with his tiny arms extending high into the air.
“You’re supposed to push the wagon, Wally, not lift it,” she joked.
Murdock looked at Leona and grinned. When they finally reached the top of the hill, Leona was the first to see her grandmother kneeling on one knee, intently pulling weeds in her flower garden.
“Look, there’s Grandma,” she said excitedly. “Hi, Grandma!” she yelled.
Eunice turned and waved to Leona, and a big smile came across the little girl’s face. And then one came across her grandmother’s.
“Howdy-do, kids,” Eunice yelled.
“Hi, Grandma,” Lillian, Arlene and Wally yelled in unison.
The next thing she knew, all four children ran to her and gave her a hug. She picked up Wally and said: “My, aren’t you the big one now.”
Wally smiled and wrapped his arms around his grandmother’s neck.
“I see you made it okay, Murdy,” the old woman said. “I fixed you folks a nice picnic lunch, Maggie. Give me ten minutes to clean up and I’ll bring it right up to you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Yeah, thanks much, Eunice,” Murdock said. “You’re a lifesaver; I’m really famished right about now. We all got up early this morning, so it’s been a while since we’ve eaten.”
“Except for Lillian,” Arlene said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. “She didn’t get up ‘til nine, and even then wasn’t much use ‘til ten.”
Leona giggled and said: “That’s still pretty darn early for Lillian. The only time I saw her up that early was when she thought her precious Marcus was coming to visit.”
Margaret, Murdock, and Eunice just smiled when they noticed Lillian’s face turning red.
“Okay, you hoodlums,” Murdock yelled, “back on the wagon; time’s a wastin’. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and I hav’ta drive the wagon all the way back to Bangor this evening to meet Bobby. He’s offered to help me move the heavy furniture when he gets off work.”
With that, the Haleys climbed back onto the wagon for the final 700-foot ride to their new home. Although the children had seen their new house from a distance before, they had never been inside it, or even walked on the property for that matter. When Margaret and Murdock went to look at it that spring, the children stayed with Mrs. Murphy, so they were now very curious and excited to see where they would soon be living.
As the wagon was pulling away, an ecstatic Eunice yelled out:
“By the way, everyone: Welcome to Glenburn!”
—2—
Rural Glenburn was originally called Dutton after an early settler, but in 1837, for some reason long ago lost to history, the small town was renamed. Its new name was derived from the Scottish words “glen” for wooded valley and “burn” for stream, thus Glenburn appropriately meant: “a stream in a wooded valley.” And, in this case, the Kenduskeag Stream, which effectively split the town in half, east from west, was the inspiration for the name change. Although the Haleys did not live in sight of the picturesque southerly flowing stream of demarcation, or in sight of any other stream for that matter, they loved the scenic country setting that the town offered, and, as such, deemed it an appropriate place to raise a family.
The Haleys’ new home was actually located in West Glenburn, only a few hundred feet from the tri-corner boundary of Glenburn, Bangor and Hermon. In particular, the house they bought was situated on a hill at the corner of a three-way intersection with the main street being Ohio Street, a major road connecting the city of Bangor to the town of Kenduskeag, just north of Glenburn. The Haleys’ new home was on the left when traveling from Bangor to Kenduskeag, or more definitively, on the west side of Ohio Street; the intersecting road was to the right, directly across from the Haleys’ driveway. It was the secondary road connecting Ohio Street to Broadway that Margaret had to walk after getting off the Broadway Trolley whenever she visited Eunice.
Since roads in the small town of Glenburn seldom had street signs, Leona gave it the name the Winter Fun Road, and Margaret and the others adopted that name too, just to appease the little girl. Leona chose that name because of all the fun she had snow sledding on it the one and only time she visited Grandma Eunice during the winter with Margaret. And even though the old sled that Eunice let her use was all banged up and its runners were rusty from sitting unused for years, it still went fast enough down that ice-covered road that Leona had the most fun ever while playing alone for upwards of two hours.
As the Haleys approached their new home on Bobby’s wagon, Lillian learned from her mother that she would have to walk the Winter Fun Road to catch the trolley to high school, and she was stunned, to say the least.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’. You mean I have to walk all the way down that road to catch a ride? Wonderful!”
“Let’s not be so sarcastic, dear,” Margaret said. “It’s not as if you’re walking to China; it’s barely three-quarters of a mile to Broadway. And, you can always go to Hermon if you want to; I hear they have a decent high school. It’s only three miles from here, and I’m sure you can catch a ride with someone in the neighborhood.”
“No thanks, Mama, I’d rather go to Bangor High with my friends,” the 14-year-old replied.
Although attending school was going to be a little inconvenient for Lillian, her sisters had it much easier because their new school was less than a mile north of their home. To the Haleys, that was a huge plus because their children could walk the relatively short distance in a half-hour or so—good days or bad. The West Glenburn Elementary School sat conveniently at the corner of Ohio Street and the School Road: a side road heading westward. The small, white, one-room schoolhouse housed all eight elementary grades, as most one-room schools did in those days; as a result, Leona and Arlene would have plenty of company when they walked to school. That also pleased their parents since the neighborhood kids could keep a safe eye out for each other.
The best part about the location of the Haleys’ new home, at least as far as Margaret was concerned, was that it was practically next door to her mother’s place. The house that Eunice Carver lived in was only 700 feet south of their house, albeit, on the opposite side of the road. Indeed, being on the east side of Ohio Street, rather than on the west side, the Carver property was almost a mirror image of the Haleys’, except instead of being adjacent to the Winter Fun Road it was across from a road that formed part of the boundary between West Glenburn and the town of Hermon.
Murdock was intrigued when his wife informed him that the Carver property had the unique distinction of being located in Glenburn, Hermon, and Bangor, due to the fact that those three towns intersected within its bounds.
“My mother used to pull her hair out when it came time to pay the property taxes,” Margaret said. “Most of the taxes went to Glenburn, since the house and all but a handful of the 60 acres were there; and it’s grated her to no end to have to pay such a trivial amount to Hermon and Bangor. She figured it probably cost them much more in administrative fees than the actual tax they collected from her.
“I had to laugh each time I heard her say: ‘I’d give ah hundred bucks to meet just one politician with a lick of common sense.’”
“Her and me too!” Murdock responded.
—3—
Just as Bobby’s horse reached the Winter Fun Road, Murdock yanked on the reins causing it to turn left into the Haleys’ new driveway. When he yelled “Whoa,” Brown Beauty and the wagon came to a sudden stop near the side entrance of their new home. The 60-foot gravel driveway was on the left side of the house: the south side; and to the left of the driveway were large oak and maple trees that seemingly supplied enough shade to satisfy the entire population of West Glenburn.
“This is it, girls. What do you think?” Murdock asked.
“Wow! Look at the big fields,” Leona marveled. “They’re as big as Chapin Park.”
“Yeah, you’ll have plenty of room to play here, that’s for sure,” her father responded. “Not just in those fields though. We own lots of woods too, and you can play in them as much as you want.”
“Mama, I gotta pee,” little Wally declared.
“Me too, Mama,” Lillian said, “real bad!”
“Okay, Lillian, the outhouse is in the back, on the other side of the house. Do me a favor, will you, and take Wally with you.”
“Come on, Wally, let’s go,” Lillian said after jumping off the wagon and taking her skinny 3-year-old brother from her mother’s arms.
Lillian hurried toward the rear of the house, with Wally safely cradled in her arms, and came to an empty porch. She immediately ran onto it and when she got to the far side of the porch she saw a small building sitting on the north side of the house, 40 feet away. Without hesitation she rushed to its door. Once inside she saw that it was not an outhouse, but was instead an empty 8-foot by 12-foot woodshed, so she quickly turned and hurried out the door. Then she scurried to the back of the shed where she saw another much smaller building, twenty feet away.
“That has’ta be it, Wally,” a relieved Lillian said.
As she approached the little 6-foot by 8-foot house, her nose told her she was right. When she entered the door she was again relieved to see that it had two seats: a small one for children and a larger one for adults.
“Hurry up, Wally,” Lillian yelled, “I’m not gonna stand here and hold this door forever.”
In the meantime, Arlene and Leona jumped off the wagon when they spotted a well a few feet up ahead on the left side of the driveway, where they got a drink of cool water. Then they began exploring the outside of their new home. First, they went to the rear porch and looked in the back windows. Seeing nothing much of interest, Arlene ran to the north side of the house, saw something strange, and yelled to her sister.
“Leona, come here! I found a funny-looking door!”
Leona ran to her sister; and Murdock, wondering what all the fuss was about, followed her.
“That’s the cellar door, Arlene,” he said. “Here, step aside and I’ll unlock it so you can take a look inside.”
As with many houses in those days, one of the most useful features of the Haleys’ new house was the cellar under it. Outside access to the cellar was via a four-foot door that hugged the ground and was almost, but not quite, parallel to it. Indeed, its bottom sat only a foot above the ground, while the top of the door was only a foot higher. Perilously steep stairs descended from the bottom of the door into the house’s underground cellar. As might be expected, it was always cool—summer or winter—and, thus, was an ideal place to store newly canned food. Although, canned was a misnomer, because food from the garden was prepared and stored in glass Mason jars, named after its inventor: John Landis Mason. The Mason jar had a round top and glass cover that was sealed airtight by a rubber gasket when a wire lever was pressed down to clamp the cover, ensuring that the food would be preserved unspoiled for weeks, or even months at a time. For added preservation, wax would be poured on top of the jar’s contents to make sure it stayed unspoiled for a much longer time.
On the other hand, food such as raw meat that needed to be kept extra cool or frozen was stored in an icebox in the cellar, or in some cases buried with a sufficient amount of ice in sawdust to keep it frozen all year round. Most cellars were equipped with both, and when Leona noticed a square, 4-foot by 4-foot box in the far corner of the cellar that looked like a child’s sandbox, she had a question.
“What’s that, Papa?”
“That’s where people keep things frozen, like deer meat and beef,” he answered. “You dig a hole, fill it with sawdust and bury the meat in it, along with a good amount of ice, and it will stay frozen for months at a time. The deeper the hole, the longer it stays frozen, ‘cause the further in the ground you dig, the colder it is.”
“Huh!?” Leona said.
The Haleys usually bought ice from the Bangor Ice Company because of their reliable and timely delivery, even to the small, faraway town of Glenburn. After chopping huge blocks of pure ice from the frozen Penobscot, they too covered it with sawdust to keep it from melting until sold and delivered to customers on specially made ice-wagons.
—4—
After checking out the cellar, Arlene and Leona ran back to the porch where Lillian and Wally were waiting with Margaret. Murdock locked the cellar door and joined them.
“Okay, let’s get started unloading the wagon,” he said.
The Haleys headed toward the wagon, but as they did they noticed Eunice walking across the south field toward them carrying a large picnic basket.
“Well, I guess it’s time to eat,” Murdock said. “Unloading the wagon’s gonna hav’ta wait.”
“Good,” Arlene said. “I’m starved.”
“Me too,” little Wally said. Then Margaret spoke.
“Hi, Mom. We’ll eat over here under this tree. Lillian, would you fetch the picnic blanket from the wagon. It’s in the box marked BLANKETS.”
“Gee, Mama? I’m glad you told me; I’da been looking in the box marked DISHES, forever.”
“Never you mind, young lady. Just do as I say; and stop being such a wiseass.”
While everyone was laughing, Lillian fetched the blanket and spread it in the shade of a tall oak tree. Eunice set her picnic basket in the middle of the large blanket, and she and the Haleys sat in a circle around the light-brown wicker basket.
“Dig in!” she said while opening its lid. “I hope ya like chicken sandwiches and my special molasses cookies. I brought a quart of milk too. I hope it’s enough; if not, one of the kids can run down to my house and fetch another quart from the icebox. I made plenty of sandwiches, so you bes’ be hungry.”
“You don’t hav’ta worry, Eunice,” Murdock said. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”
Just then Brown Beauty let out a loud whinny, causing everyone to laugh.
“I guess Bobby’s horse understands English,” Leona said.
While eating, and enjoying the warm summer day, Eunice and Margaret gossiped some and then began telling stories to the children. When they were all storied out, Eunice had something to say.
“My friend Edna and I are gonna be taking a trip come tomorrah. Been wanting to visit the coast for quite some time now, especially Acadia and the Camden area, so we decided that it’s now or never. Since she moved to Bangor we hardly see each other nowadays. When I learned you were gonna move to Glenburn today I considered postponing the trip, but Edna’s been in poor health of late, so want to go while she’s able. Sorry I can’t be here to help ya settle in.”
“That’s okay, Mom. Just go and enjoy yourself, but don’t go gallivanting around too much and get all tuckered out. How long you gonna be gone?”
“Maybe two weeks? Maybe more? It depends on the weather, and how our old bones feel.”
“What do you mean old, Eunice? You’re still a spring chicken,” Murdock said.
“Well thanks, Murdy, but my 72-year-old ticker’s been given me some trouble of late, and….”
Incredulous, Leona interrupted, saying: “You’re seventy-two, Grandma? When were you born?”
“October 30th, 1845, dear.”
Leona thought for a while and then responded: “Wow! That was even before the Civil War.”
“Tell me about it, Leona. In fact, I was a teenager when Honest Abe was elected President. Come to think on it, back then I wan’t much older than Lillian. In fact, even though he wasn’t that handsome, I had a huge crush on him. Maybe it was his height? Or his mind? Be that as it may, when he was assassinated in ‘65 by that actor fella—John Wilkes Booth—I was beside myself. I’ll tell ya, I’ve never been so heartbroken. Oh my God, Leona, that was 50-something years ago. How time flies.”
“By the way, Leona, did you know that your Grandpa Carver fought in the Civil War?”
“He did!?”
“Oh yes, in Company B of the Maine Volunteer Infantry, with the 20th Regiment. He fought at Antietam and Appomattox. His unit also helped Colonel Joshua Chamberlain defeat the Rebels at Gettysburg. He saw some pretty bad things, and was nearly killed by a round from a rebel musket. Fortunately his wound was minor, and he got medical help in time. Many volunteers died of less severe injuries than his, so he was lucky. Come to think of it, so were you children, and your mother.”
“How so, Grandma?” Lillian asked.
Well, none of you would be here now if your grandpa had kicked the bucket.”
“Huh?” Leona said.
“That means died, dear,” Margaret informed her daughter.
Just then, she looked around and noticed that Wally was missing.
“Speaking of the children being here, Murdy, what happened to that son of yours?”
“He’s way over yonder, Maggie, but don’t you worry, he’s safe enough out here in the country.”
Margaret turned and saw her 3-year-old, over 200 feet away, heading straight for the back woods.
“Leona, go fetch your brother back here.”
“Yes, Mama,” she said, before jumping up and running as fast as she could toward little Wally.
When he saw his sister coming he ran toward the woods as fast as his little legs could carry him, so Leona ran even faster after him.
“Come back here, you little rascal!” she called.
Wally just giggled and kept on running.
“Maggie, I thought the terrible twos were supposed to be over by now,” Murdock joked.
“Not in Wally’s case. In fact, the way he’s going, we’re probably gonna have to rename them the terrible threes.”
“What do you mean, dear?” Eunice asked.
“Well his terrible twos started when he was one,” Margaret answered, “and the way things are now it looks like they won’t be over until he’s at least four. So that’ll be three years that we had to put up with a two-year-old. But thank God he’s nothing like Bill’s son.”
Her remark invoked laughter from everyone on the blanket.
“I wonder what they’re laughing at, Wally?” Leona said to her little brother as she grabbed him, just three feet from the woods.
“Probably you. Come on, let’s go back and find out.”
When Leona returned with Wally on her hip, she overheard Lillian complaining to Eunice about having to walk all the way down the Winter Fun Road to catch the trolley. Then she heard Arlene.
“Oh, stop your whining, Lillian.”
“Butt out, Arlene. I’m the one who’s gotta take the stupid trolley to school, not you. So I’ll complain if I want to. And you can go jump….”
“Okay, girls, that’s enough! Let’s have some peace and quiet for once,” Margaret said. “Now, go on, Mom, and tell us more about your trip to the coast.”
Eunice elaborated on her upcoming trip, and then told two more stories for the benefit of the starry-eyed children. After the stories were told, Eunice spoke.
“Well, I bes’ be heading back home so I can ready supper for you folks. You’re bound to be mighty hungry again, after you’ve unloaded all your stuff off the wagon.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, mother. I don’t want you putting yourself out.”
“Don’t ya fret ya’self, dear. It’s no bother at all. I hav’ta cook something for myself anyway, so it’s just a matter of uppin’ the portions. How does ham and potatoes sound?”
“Sounds good to me,” Murdock answered.
“How about you girls?” Eunice asked. “I know little Wally’s not fussy. From what your mother’s told me, he’ll eat anything; even bugs.”
The girls laughed, and Lillian finally spoke.
“We like ham and potatoes too, Grandma. But we’ll pass on the bugs.”
Now it was the adult’s turn to laugh.
“You’ve got good tastes, Lil,” Margaret said to her eldest daughter. “Ham and potatoes will be sufficient, Mom.”
“And some of your molasses cookies too,” Leona added.
“Well, alrighty then,” Eunice said. “You head on down to my place around 5:30 and it’ll be on the table waiting for ya.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Now don’t tucker ya’self out unloadin’ that wagon,” Eunice said while getting to her feet.
“I won’t. Don’t bother about your picnic basket, I’ll bring it when we come down to supper.”
“Oh-kee-doak-kee. See ya then,” Eunice said before smiling and turning to walk away.
“Goodbye, Grandma,” Leona yelled.
Eunice turned her head and said: “Too-da-loo,” Leona. Too-da-loo.”
Leona always thought it funny when she heard Eunice say too-da-loo to say goodbye—or howdy-do to say hello and oh-kee-doak-kee to say okay. So she smiled when she heard her grandmother say it this time, and said, “Too-da-loo, Grandma.”
Every now and then even her mother spoke those words, and it tickled Leona when she did, so Margaret made a habit of using them often, just to see Leona laugh.