Free In Grandma's Attic by Arleta Richardson Page A

to Ma.

    The storm was over in a short time. Pa and the boys came in from the barn, and Pa dropped heavily into a chair.
    “Well, Maryanne,” he said, “that did a lot of damage to the wheat. We may be able to save some of it, but it was pretty badly beaten.”
    I didn’t listen further. I ran to my room and threw myself on my bed. The wheat was ruined, and it was all my fault. What would Pa do to me when he found out? I had just prayed for cool weather, not total destruction! I had probably promised too much this time. What would the family think of me if they knew I had brought on this terrible hailstorm? I was determined that they should not find out.
    But when Pa prayed that evening and thanked the Lord for His blessing and care, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I began to sob and cry, and Ma looked around in concern. Pa picked me up and put me on his lap, and finally the story came out.
    “Why, Mabel,” said Pa, “don’t you worry about that. Just remember that the Lord doesn’t expect us to ask favors for our convenience or pleasure. A hailstorm often follows a hot spell like this, and your prayers didn’t bring it on.”

    Grandma picked up the pans to carry them to the kitchen.
    “I was comforted by Pa’s assurance,” she said. “But I didn’t forget that day. It taught me to pray for the Lord’s will instead of demanding what I wanted.”

19
    Molly Blue
    Grandma and I sat on the front porch of her old home.
    “Why doesn’t Uncle Roy have animals anymore?” I asked Grandma.
    “You’ll have to ask him,” Grandma said with a smile.
    Uncle Roy sat down on the steps and fanned himself with his hat. “Animals?” he replied. “Well, I guess the orchards take as much time as I have. And you don’t have to bring trees in every night!”
    He chuckled, and his eyes twinkled as he looked at Grandma.
    “Do you remember when the cows were your job, Mabel?”
    “How could I forget?” Grandma answered. “I suppose you still see something funny about that, don’t you?”
    “Well, yes,” Uncle Roy admitted. “It did have its humorous side.”
    He laughed, and I looked eagerly at Grandma.
    “I guess I was about eight years old when Roy decided that he was too old to go for the cows,” Grandma began.

    “Pa says Mabel is big enough to bring the cows home at night,” Roy announced one evening at supper. “And since I’m going into town with Pa tomorrow, she can start then!”
    Roy looked at me triumphantly, and I quickly appealed to Pa.
    “I can’t bring the cows in alone,” I protested. “Molly Blue doesn’t like me, and if she doesn’t move, none of the others will.”
    “You can take Pep to help you,” Pa replied calmly. “I think you can handle it this summer. Just start early so that Reuben can milk before dark.”
    The matter was settled, and I knew better than to argue. But I was exceedingly unhappy about the arrangement. I didn’t really know that Molly Blue didn’t like me, but from past experience, I knew I didn’t like her!
    Molly Blue was a bawler. She was forever getting her foot caught, or her head stuck in the fence, or her bell snagged on a bush. And when she did, she bawled. It was no delicate cry for help; she could be heard clear to the house. It had become my job to go to her rescue. The boys were usually in the field with Pa, and when Ma couldn’t stand the racket any longer, she would call me: “Mabel, go and see what is wrong with Molly Blue. That bellowing makes me nervous.”
    I would reluctantly leave my dolls and trudge to the meadow to pull Molly Blue out of whatever predicament she was in.
    As the trips seemingly became more frequent, I began to be more annoyed with Molly. When Ma called for the third time one day, I complained.
    “There’s nothing wrong with that stupid cow, Ma. She just wants company. She quits bawling as soon as I get there.”
    “Well, go keep her company then,” Ma replied. “I can’t stand that everlasting noise!”
    So Molly