Free Treasures from Grandma's Attic by Arleta Richardson Page A

alighted from the buggy than she was surrounded by neighboring ladies.
    “Maryanne, do you mean to say that you’ve had those Gypsies in your yard all week?”
    “Weren’t you afraid to go to sleep at night?”
    “Could you understand what they said?”
    “Did you leave them there alone while you came to church today?”
    Ma answered each question pleasantly, but it was plain to see that she was not saying all she felt. I was glad when Pa returned from staking Nellie and we went into the church.
    Ma’s face was pretty grim as we turned toward home. “I declare, I don’t understand people,” she said. “Anyone should be willing to take in a needy family if they have the means. Why would we be afraid of a nice young couple like that?”
    “Gypsies have a poor reputation,” Pa replied. “No one wants to trust someone who has no roots and no hometown. People feel better about a person if they know his grandfather.”
    “Humph,” Ma sniffed. “I’ve known some respectable people whose grandfathers were horse thieves.”
    We had only to turn into our lane to see that the Romanis’ wagon was gone. The dire predictions of our neighbors were in our thoughts as we approached the house, but no one had the bad judgment to voice them to Ma. We didn’t have to.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” she said to us, “and you’re wrong. The Romanis would not take anything from us. And even if they did, it doesn’t change the fact that people are more important than things. They needed help, and we gave it. We’ll do it again when the opportunity arises.”
    The house was quiet as we entered, and everything was in its accustomed place. It was as though there had never been a Gypsy family there. Ma took the pot roast from the oven, and I went to change my dress. The door of the spare room was open, and I glanced in as I walked by.
    “Ma!” I called. “Come and see!”
    Ma and Pa both joined me, and the boys were close behind.
    “Why, did you ever?” Ma breathed.
    On the bed lay three gold coins, two silver belt buckles, a bolt of cloth, and a beautiful white lace shawl.
    “They needn’t have done that,” Ma said. “They might have used the money these things would bring.”
    “I think they figured they got more than money,” Reuben said. “They knew you loved them, Ma. That’s more important than things too, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, it is,” Ma said, brushing tears from her eyes. “It certainly is.”

12
    The Expensive Bookcase
    “Come on home with me, Mabel. I want you to see what I got for my birthday.” Sarah Jane and I had been gathering berries in the woods and were on our way home.
    “I hope it isn’t a locket.” I laughed. “Remember when you cut off my hair to put in your birthday locket?”
    “Of course I do,” she replied. “I still have it; though I need a longer chain before I can wear it. But I assure you that I’ll never hang this birthday present around my neck!”
    We went directly to Sarah Jane’s bedroom. There in the corner stood a beautiful bookcase, painted to match the rest of her furniture.
    “Ooh,” I said. “Aren’t you lucky? What are you going to put in it?”
    “I had thought maybe books,” she answered. “What else do you put in a bookcase?”
    “You don’t have that many books.”
    “I’m not dead yet. I might collect a few more volumes over the years. Besides, those shelves are nice for anything you want to display. I can put my doll there and some other things I’ve kept from my childhood.”
    “Oh, I’d love to have a bookcase like that,” I said. “I have lots of things I could display.”
    “I’ll say you have,” Sarah Jane replied. “You’d need shelves from the floor to the ceiling on three walls to hold all you’ve saved. Do you ever throw anything away?”
    “Of course I do,” I responded indignantly. “I can’t think right now what, but I’m sure I must.”
    “I’m not.” Sarah Jane laughed. “Why don’t you ask your pa to