Drift Off To Maida's Little House (Chapter 3 & 4)

Tonight we embark on another enchanting journey as we begin a few chapters from the 2nd book of the beloved Maida Series called "Maida's Little House". We will go on a magical journey with Maida and all of her friends, while they spend a happy summer together in a sweet little house in the country that has everything a child could wish for. So lie back and relax as we continue our journey once more into Maida's little world! Wishing you the sweetest of dreams...

Your friend,
Joanne

Transcript

Welcome back,

Drift Off listeners,

To another cozy evening on the podcast,

Where I whisk you away to the land of dreams with Sleepy Tales.

I'm your host Joanne,

And tonight we embark on another enchanting journey with the beloved Maida series,

Where we embark on a magical journey with Maida and all of her friends while they spend a happy summer together in a sweet little house in the country that has everything a child could wish for.

Now,

Let's take a moment together to unwind and settle into a state of relaxation.

Close your eyes.

Take a deep breath in,

And exhale slowly.

Feel the tension melting away from your body as you prepare to drift off into a world of wonder and imagination.

My friend,

Just relax and listen as we continue our journey once more into Maida's world,

Where every corner holds a new adventure and every page is filled with the promise of friendship.

And so,

Go ahead and snuggle up under those cozy blankets and enjoy the story.

Chapter 3,

The Journey As the train drew into the Situat Station,

It seemed to spill children from every door.

Counting them carefully,

Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr found to their great relief that the twelve with whom they started were still all with them.

But,

Big and little,

They were all so full of excitement of the trip that it looked as though at any moment they might vanish in the strange country which surrounded them.

Arthur,

Leading the two boys,

Started an investigation of the station.

The three big girls followed.

Only the little children,

Tired by the trip and awed to quiet by the unfamiliar surroundings,

Stayed close to the women's skirts.

Timmy's big,

Full eyes surveyed in wonder the strange new world.

Delia,

Who had fallen comfortably asleep in her mother's arms,

Suddenly waked up,

Rubbing her eyes and looked about her.

Oh,

Take me back,

She wailed in a sudden attack of homesickness,

And fortunately fell asleep again.

Oh,

Here's the car,

Maida called.

A big,

Comfortable limousine came round the bend of the road.

The driver alighted and came forward.

Here I am at last,

Miss Maida,

He said,

His hand to his cap.

Oh,

Good afternoon,

Botkins,

Maida greeted him.

She introduced him to Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr,

Then to the children.

I'm sorry I was late,

Ma'am,

Botkins said to Granny Flynn,

But I nearly ran over a dog in the road.

I stopped to see if it was all right.

And was it?

Rosie Brine,

Who had a passion for animals,

Asked eagerly.

Right as a trivet,

Botkins answered.

What is a trivet,

Maida,

Rosie asked in a mystified aside.

I'll show you in a few minutes,

Goose,

Maida rejoined.

It's an English word.

Botkins,

Who was English also,

Began stowing the party away in the automobile.

Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr on the back seats,

Betsy and Delia between them,

And Molly and Timmy at their feet.

Maida and Laura,

Each holding a very active Clark twin,

Occupied the little seats.

Rosie,

To her great delight,

Was permitted to sit with the driver.

The three boys hung on to the running board.

We look like an orphan asylum,

Arthur commented,

And with a long call of warning from the horn,

They started off.

The road stretched straight before them,

Wide and yellow,

Spurred with trees on both sides,

Then vanished under an arch of green as it turned to the left.

Aren't there any houses in Sachewet,

Maida,

Laura asked.

Plenty,

Maida answered.

We'll come to some in a minute,

Then to more.

In a little while,

We'll go right through the town.

For a few moments,

Nobody spoke,

Just watched for the first house.

Presently,

The little white farmhouse,

Gambrel-roofed and old,

Popped into view at one side.

Oh,

Did you see that lovely old well with the long pole,

Rosie exclaimed from the front seat?

That's a well-sweep,

Maida explained.

It has a bucket at one end.

Oh,

See the ponies.

One,

Two,

Three,

Four,

Five.

But the car shot Laura past before she had all the ponies counted.

Gee,

Look at all those hens,

Came from Arthur.

Must be a hundred.

And then followed a chorus of,

Oh,

Sees.

The beautiful big barn with its wide doors.

The lovely little pond covered with lily pads.

The trim little vine-covered summer house perched on the hill.

Beehives.

The old graveyard.

And,

See the moo-cow?

Piped up Betsy Hale.

And,

Tea de moo-tow?

Delia has usually mimicked her.

Timmy did not speak,

But his big eyes,

Made bigger by wonder,

Mirrored everything.

There's the town,

Maida said finally.

And again,

For a few moments,

There was silence.

The town manifested itself as first only by scattered farmhouses.

But these began to draw closer and closer together until,

Finally,

They seemed almost a huddle about the beautiful little white church,

Standing amidst rows of old lichen-covered slate gravestones,

And pointing with a slender,

Delicately cut and carved,

White spire at the blue sky.

Stores were here too.

A moving picture house.

A small inn.

A post office.

A garage.

Then the road turned suddenly,

And for an instant,

It was almost as though their speed would take them across the broad stretch of a velvety green lawn into the blue harbor which expanded beyond.

This harbor bore here and there white-sailed boats.

Not far away,

A boy was fishing from the side of a dory.

There was a chorus of delighted ohs and ahs from the car,

But their speed did not abate for a moment.

On they went and on,

And soon the village was behind,

Far behind.

Houses were drawing apart from each other.

The forest was closing about the farms,

Separating them.

Now the car was on the smooth,

Hard road again,

Thick tree growths on both sides.

With a contented sigh,

Betsy closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

Delia had long ago surrendered to the Sandman.

Molly was trying her best to keep awake,

But it was obvious that she could not hold out long.

Timmy's eyes were beginning to film with fatigue,

But he fought it manfully.

Even the Clark twins had become silent,

But the other children were as wide awake as when they started.

More yellow road and more yellow road,

More green trees and more green trees.

In the front seat,

Rosie bounced.

Oh,

Maida,

She called.

It seems to me I can't wait.

Will we ever get there?

Maida's eyes danced.

Oh,

In an hour or so,

She said airily.

An hour,

Laura groaned.

We've gone a thousand miles already.

Even as she spoke,

The motor turned smoothly,

The horn emitting a long silvery gurgle.

They entered between two massive stone posts,

A long avenue which curved away in the distance like a wide gray tape thrown amidst the trees.

Maida Westabrook,

You fibber,

Rosie exclaimed.

We're here now.

Maida only twinkled.

On they went.

On both sides grew great trees,

But unlike the forests that stretched away from the public roads which they had just traversed,

These roads had been freed of their underbrush.

The grass beneath them was like velvet,

And lying on it,

As though liquid gold had oozed or poured through the branches,

Shone tiny splashes and great pools of sunlight.

It looked as though the whole green earth were caught in a golden net.

On and on,

To the impatient children,

It seemed that they went miles.

Oh,

Arthur Duncan exclaimed suddenly,

And then,

Oh,

Oh,

The car had turned so that it looked straight down into a cleared glade.

At the end of the vista,

A group of deer,

Dappled in white all over their lovely brown bodies,

Lifted their heads,

And with their great soft eyes surveyed the car.

But they stared for such a tiny fraction of a second,

That it scarcely seemed that the thing had happened at all,

For in a flash,

There was a glimpse of white as they turned tail.

They vanished as instantly,

As completely,

As miraculously as though they were ghosts.

Oh,

Meda!

Rosie exclaimed.

Dear,

How wonderful!

Do they belong to your father,

Or are they wild?

Those that you saw are dappled,

Dear.

Father had them brought here from England,

Meda answered,

But once in a while we do see wild deer in this country.

Oh,

I'd like to see some wild deer,

Arthur said.

Dickie didn't speak,

But his eyes were luminous.

As for Harold,

He was still gasping with the surprise of it.

On they went.

The road curved and rippled like a ribbon being constantly thrown ahead of them.

Suddenly,

They came to a great cleared space,

Smoother than any plush.

Botkin stopped the car.

At the end towered a huge house of white marble with terraces.

On the lawn,

Which stretched between the children and the house,

Grew wide separated a few stately trees,

Wineglass elms,

Oaks,

Copper beeches,

And powdered spruces.

It was very still now,

And unimpeded.

The setting sun was sending great golden shafts across the stretch of plushy grass.

They struck a pool of water in a marble basin in the middle of that emerald velvet,

And through the fountain which played about it,

Here there yonder,

Motionless in that liquid golden light,

Were white objects.

What are those white things?

Dickie asked curiously.

And then,

One of the white objects arose,

Opened like a fan,

Spread to a wonderful size,

Its snow-white tail,

Moved in stately fashion along the velvety green lawn.

Maeda,

Dickie gasped,

Not,

Yes,

They are,

White peacocks.

Yes,

Maeda answered,

White peacocks.

I'm so glad they were there.

Everything has happened just as I wanted it.

Sometimes it will be days before you see deer,

Although there are so many here,

And sometimes the peacocks wander to the back of the house.

I knew you wanted to see them,

Dickie,

And I've been hoping all along that they would be here for you.

There are seven,

We have a dozen.

Dickie was listening with all his ears,

But at the same time he was looking with all his eyes,

For out of the trees to the left,

Suddenly appeared another pair of peacocks in full sail,

Not white ones this time,

Great,

Charismatic,

Blue and green creatures.

The sun struck bronze lights out of them as they floated on.

It's like a fairy tale,

Dickie breathed.

Are we going to live here,

Rosie asked in an awed tone.

Oh,

Mercy,

No,

Maeda answered.

That's father's house,

The big house.

Our house is ever so much nicer.

I hope it isn't any bigger,

Laura said,

Her voice a little awed too.

Maeda laughed a little.

No,

It's not quite as big as that,

She admitted.

Shall I go on,

Miss Maeda,

Botkins asked.

Yes,

Please,

Botkins,

Maeda answered.

And they continued to go on through more winding,

Geometrically perfect,

Beautifully kept grey roads,

Past armies and armies of trees,

High,

Plumy-tipped,

Feathery-trunked aristocratic elms,

Vigorous,

Irregular-shaped,

Peasant-like oaks,

Clumps,

Gracefully slender,

Fluttering a veil of green leaves of white birch,

Occasional pine,

Resinous and shining,

Beeches,

Firs.

Suddenly,

Everybody exclaimed at once,

Oh,

See the pond!

What pond is it?

Harold asked.

It's called by some people Spy Pond,

Maeda answered,

But I call it the Magic Mirror.

It's our pond,

And I think I ought to be allowed to call it what I want.

I think so too,

Agreed Laura.

What do you mean by our pond?

Arthur asked.

Just what I say,

Maeda replied promptly.

It's our pond.

It belongs to my father,

And it's part of the grounds of Maeda's little house.

We can go swimming in it every day.

That is,

If we don't prefer.

She broke off in a little embarrassed laugh.

Oh,

Maeda,

You are so full of secrets,

I could kill you,

Rosie threatened.

Maeda only laughed.

They passed the pond which stretched for a considerable distance,

Long and crescent-shaped between its tree-hung banks,

And now they were in the real forest.

The road was smooth as always and beautifully kept,

But on both sides,

The forest had been left to grow as it pleased.

It was filled with underbrush.

The tree trunks were obscured by great bushes.

Here and there through openings,

The children could see gigantic rocks thrusting great heads and shoulders out of the masses of rusty-colored leaves.

Oh,

Isn't it lovely,

Rosie said in a perfect ecstasy.

Lovely,

Lovely,

Lovely,

She went on repeating dreamily,

As though caught in a trance of delight.

She ended with a scream.

Did you see that?

What was it,

Maeda?

A woodchuck,

Maeda answered smilingly.

Timmy,

Awakened by Rosie's scream,

Asked if there were any lions and tigers about.

Much disappointed at Maeda's no,

He fell asleep again.

And now they seemed to be going uphill,

Slowly but steadily up,

Up,

Up,

Up.

The car had begun to speed a little.

Ahead was another rounding curve.

Bodkins took it with a flash.

The car came out in front of.

It was one of the little colonial farmhouses,

A story and a half in height,

Weather-colored,

Slant-roofed,

To which addition after addition has been added by succeeding generations.

It was set in an expanse of lawn,

Cut cleanly in two by a path of irregularly shaped,

Sunken stones,

Dominated,

One on either side,

By twin elms of enormous girth and amplitude.

The house faced the east.

The additions,

Which now merged into one long structure,

Had gone off to the right and the north,

Where they joined a big barn.

This barn was the same velvety,

Gray-weathered color as the house,

But with great doors painted a strange deep old blue,

Which had faded to an even stranger deeper blue.

The sun struck into the open door and shot over the shining sides of a half a dozen brilliantly covered canoes lying face downwards on the floor,

Glittered in the bright work of a half a dozen bicycles drawn up in a line.

The front door of the house opened and a colored man and woman,

Young and smiling,

Came out to meet them.

The automobile seemed to explode children who started over the lawn of the house.

What a house it was!

The pointed-topped pillared vestibule entrance was covered with roses,

Which smothered it in a pink bloom.

Hollyhocks,

Not blooming yet,

Marched in files along the front of the house.

Lilacs and heavy blossom bunched in hedges at the ends.

At one side,

A trumpet vine with a trunk as thick as iron cable had crept to the very top spine of the house,

Was crawling towards the single ample chimney which protruded from the middle of the roof.

At the other side,

A graceful elm thrust close to the shingles.

A syringa bush and a smoke bush grew in front.

But charming as was the house,

Interesting as was the barn,

The children's eyes did not linger long on either of them because inevitably their gaze fixed on the annex which made an intermediate house between them.

For in the middle of it,

Yes,

In it and through it,

Grew an enormous gnarled oak.

Its trunk emerged from the roof and its long level branches spread over it in every direction.

More than that,

Above that roof,

Securely caught in those flatly growing,

Wildly spread branches,

Was a little tree house.

The colored pair were almost on them now.

Good afternoon,

Floribel.

Meda greeted them.

Good afternoon,

Zeke.

Let me introduce you to Mrs.

Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr.

Then she turned to the rest of the group.

Children,

She commanded in a tone of happy pride.

Behold,

Meda's little house.

CHAPTER FOUR THE LITTLE HOUSE Do you want to see the place now or wait until after supper?

Meda asked,

After the last admiring exclamation had died.

The last pair of cramped legs had stretched themselves out.

I am starved,

Rosie answered instantly.

But I must see everything first.

The others echoed Rosie's decision with a fury of enthusiasm.

We can't see the back of the house from here,

Arthur said,

As though that clinched the matter.

And so,

While Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr,

The little children tagging them in a daze of fatigue,

Shot with excitement,

Were being taken care of by Floribel and Zeke,

Meda led the older children on a voyage of exploration.

Now first,

She said,

In a practical voice,

Let's go off a little distance,

So that I can show you the whole lay of the land.

The six of them returned almost to the spot where they had first caught sight of the little house.

I'm going to start by telling you a little of the history of the house,

Meda began importantly.

This is the old Westerbrook farmhouse,

And my father was born here,

And his father,

And his father.

It was built in 1645,

And Westerbrooks have lived in it from that day to this.

Oh,

Meda,

Rosie said,

In an odd tone,

Isn't that wonderful?

Is it just the same as it was then?

No,

Indeed,

Meda answered.

Almost every generation of Westerbrooks added something to the original house.

The barn was built later,

And also all those little additions,

We call them the annex,

Which connect the house with the barn,

But it was my father who made the sides of them all windows.

Who put the little house in the tree?

Dickey asked.

My grandfather.

Wasn't it wonderful that they left the tree?

Laura commented.

Yes,

You see,

My grandmother loved that big old tree dearly,

And so they saved it for her.

Now,

Where shall we go first?

Up the tree,

Everybody answered.

All right,

I might have known you would have said that,

Meda declared,

When I'm just dying to show you the house.

The tree grew out of the middle of the annex.

The floor had been fitted neatly about the tree trunk.

Stairs led up to the roof,

And from the roof,

A short flight of steps led to the treehouse.

One after another,

The children mounted them.

It took them into a little square room with windows looking in all four directions.

Oh,

I can see Spy Pond,

I mean the magic mirror,

Rosie exclaimed.

And from here,

You can see the big house,

Laura exclaimed.

Not very much,

Just a sort of shining.

Oh,

But look,

See,

Dickey stuttered in his excitement,

From here you can see the ocean.

The children deserted the other windows and rushed to Dickey's side.

In the west appeared all a sparkle,

What looked like a great heaving mass of melted glass.

On and on it stretched and on,

Until it cut through the vapoury sky and disappeared forever.

A few sailboats,

Like great gulls,

Were beating their wings on its glittering surface.

Isn't it wonderful,

Rosie said in a solemn voice.

It makes me feel almost like not speaking.

Wait until you see it in a nor'easter,

Meda promised,

Or a great thunderstorm.

Just think,

Arthur said,

All my life I've wanted to learn to sail a boat.

You will sometime,

Meda interrupted.

But father says we've all got to learn to swim before we can get into a sailboat.

I know how to swim,

Arthur stated in an offhand voice.

All boys do.

I don't,

Dickey said.

Well,

You will in a week,

Meda promised.

Harold had all this time been keenly examining the ocean,

The curving line of shore.

What's that island off there,

Meda,

He asked.

Everybody calls it Spectacles Island,

Because it's shaped like a pair of spectacles.

But I call it Tom Tiddler's Ground,

Because nobody lives there.

I don't see why I shouldn't call it what I want.

It's my island.

Your island,

Rosie repeated.

Oh,

Meda,

You lucky girl.

Meda flushed and looked ashamed.

I mean our island,

She corrected herself.

Well,

Rosie said in a meditative tone,

With a farmhouse in the country,

The ocean with an island in it in front of it,

A forest with deer in back of it,

And a pond.

Meda,

Can you think of anything else that we could possibly have?

Well,

There might be a volcano on the island,

Meda suggested.

A grotto,

Somewhere like the Blue Grotto of Capri.

And then,

Of course,

We have no glaciers,

Geysers,

Hot springs,

Deserts,

Or bogs.

Oh,

You goose,

Rosie interrupted.

You know we couldn't have any of those things.

We might have a cave,

Arthur said.

Are there any caves around here,

Meda?

Not that I know of,

Meda answered.

Now let me show you the rest of the place.

You've been so busy looking at the ocean,

That you haven't noticed there's a tennis court and a croquet ground just below.

The five excited faces peered out of the open window,

Down through the tree branches,

And there was,

Indeed,

A great cleared velvety lawn with wickets and stakes at one end,

And a tennis court marked in white chalcimine at the other.

Now,

Meda said,

Come into the house.

Oh,

I forgot to tell you that I call this tree Father Time,

Because it's the oldest one on the place.

It's too bad that I named all these things years ago,

Because you could have had the fun of naming them too.

But I like your names,

Meda,

Dickie declared.

Climbing down the narrow stairs,

Meda conducted them through the two rooms of the annex,

Which lay between the tree room and the little house.

The tiny procession marched first into the kitchen,

Which was the second of these rooms,

A big sunny room.

The walls painted a deep blue,

And hanging against them,

Great pans and platters of brass and copper.

From the kitchen,

They entered the dining room,

A big room also,

Which ran the entire width of the house,

All doors and windows on the western side.

A long,

Wide table in the center,

Chairs along the walls,

And a pair of mahogany sideboards facing each other from the ends.

These were its furnishings.

They passed through a door on the eastern wall.

Now,

Meda said,

We're in the original house.

This used to be the old kitchen,

Now it's the living room.

Look at the great fireplace with the oven at one side.

This big wooden shovel was used to put the pans of bread in and take them out.

See how sweet all the old paneling is?

That's been here from the beginning,

And all the H hinges and the old butterfly hinges,

And these darling little closets,

And those big old beams with the spatter work on them.

Father had this great fender built around the fireplace,

So that the little children couldn't fall into it when there's a fire.

Are we going to have fires in that enormous place?

Rosie asked.

I wish the temperature would fall to below zero,

Laura declared recklessly.

I should think it would take four foot logs.

Arthur had been examining the fireplace.

Crouching down,

He had even walked into it,

Stared up into the chimney.

It does,

Meda informed him proudly.

Oh,

There,

Rosie,

She pointed to a little triangular brass object on the hearth.

It's a trivet.

Rosie pounced on it.

It looks like a brass cricket.

What's it for?

To put the teapot on close to the fire so it will keep hot.

Out of the living room through the northern door,

They came into one of the two smaller front rooms.

The walls were lined with books,

And here was a big table with a reading lamp,

A desk,

A few comfortable chairs.

This is the library,

Meda announced proudly.

I'd like to shut myself up here for a month,

Dickie,

Who was a great reader,

Said wistfully.

It looks as if all the books were interesting.

Oh,

They are,

Meda assured him.

The Lang fairy books,

And Grimm,

And Anderson,

George MacDonald,

And Louisa May Alcott,

And Howard Pyle,

And Stevenson,

And Kipling,

All the nicest books that Father and Billy Potter,

And Dr.

Pierce and I could think of,

And lots more that they selected that I never heard of.

From the library,

They went outdoors,

Through the little vine-covered vestibule.

From upstairs came the voice of Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr,

Putting the younger children to bed.

We three girls,

Meda explained,

Have rooms at the front of the house on the second floor.

The nursery is back over the dining room.

Where do we sleep,

Harold asked.

You boys,

Meda replied,

Are going to sleep in the barn.

Gee willikins,

Dickie exclaimed,

What fun that'll be.

I'd rather sleep in a barn than any place I know,

Arthur said.

It's pretty good fun sleeping in a tent,

Harold threw in.

I was going to say,

Arthur went on,

Except out of doors in the woods.

Now,

Which shall I show you first,

Meda asked.

The boys' room or the girls' room?

She did not wait for an answer.

Come on,

Girls,

She continued in a tone of resignation.

We've got to show the boys their place first.

They won't look at anything until they've seen them.

The procession moved toward the barn.

The lower floor,

Roomy,

Raftered,

Sweet-smelling,

Was empty except for the canoes,

A small runabout,

The bicycles,

A phonograph,

A big chest,

Garden tools.

Meda led the way to the second floor.

The railed stairway ran close to the side of the barn,

Brought them through a square opening in the ceiling into another big room,

The second story.

Here,

In each of three corners,

Were army cots.

Beside each cot,

A tall chiffonier.

On top of each chiffonier were toilet articles in a simple style.

Beside each chiffonier,

A chair.

That's your bathroom over there,

Meda pointed to the fourth corner,

Which was partitioned off.

It has a shower.

I don't expect you'll use it much,

Because we'll be bathing every day in the magic mirror.

You hang your clothes on hooks behind these curtains.

You see,

You each have a closet of your own.

The boys were,

Of course,

Opening chiffonier drawers,

Pulling aside curtain-draped closets,

Examining the shower.

Their curiosity appeased.

They made for downstairs and the canoes.

Now,

While you boys were examining the barn,

Would you girls like to explore upstairs in the house?

Meda asked.

I'm just dying to see my own room,

Laura declared firmly.

The two girls pelted across the lawn in the wake of Meda's eager footsteps.

They ran up the tiny,

Steep flight of stairs,

Exactly opposite the little vestibule entrance.

It brought them into a small hall from which opened four small slant-roofed chambers.

This is my room,

Meda said,

Pointing to one of the south chambers,

The back room on the right of the stairs.

I have always slept there when we have been in the house.

I love it,

Because of the great tree outside my window.

I have always called this tree Mother Nature,

To go with Father Time.

So,

You see,

I have a father tree and a mother tree.

When there's a storm,

The boughs make such a sweet sound rubbing against my walls,

And often little twigs tap on my window,

And sometimes it sounds exactly as though the leaves were whispering to me.

Oh,

Meda!

Rosie exclaimed.

I never saw anything so lovely in all my life.

How I love that bed and that sweet little cricket!

The room was simple.

It held but a big double old-fashioned canopied bed,

An old-fashioned maple bureau,

And an old-fashioned maple desk,

A little straight slap-backed chair in front of the desk,

And a little slap-backed rocker by one of the windows,

But it was quaint.

In front of the rocker was a cricket,

So just ready for little feet.

The flowered wallpaper matched the chintz curtains and the chintz ruffles on the little cricket.

Under the window,

In a little old-fashioned child's chair,

Sat a great rag doll,

And beside her was a little hair-cloth trunk.

Yes,

It is perfectly lovely,

Laura agreed,

But oh,

Meda,

Do show me my room.

What a selfish goop I am!

Meda exclaimed in contrition.

Your room,

Rosie,

Is in front of mine,

And Laura's across the hall.

The three little girls tumbled pell-mell into the front room.

It did not differ much from Meda's or Laura's across the way,

Except where the keynote of Meda's wallpaper and chintz's were yellow.

That of Rosie's was crimson and Laura's blue.

In each there was a double canopied bed,

A little old-fashioned bureau,

A little old-fashioned cricket,

Two quaint little old-fashioned chairs.

But all these things differed in detail,

And although the rooms showed a similarity,

They all showed an individuality.

Rosie and Laura went wild with excitement.

Oh,

Look at my sweet,

Sweet closet,

Laura called from her room.

What a strange shape with the roof slanting like that,

And a baby window in it.

And the windows,

Rosie took it up from her room.

Four,

Eight,

Twelve,

Sixteen,

Twenty-four panes,

And such strange glass,

All full of bubbles and crinkles and wiggle-waggles.

And the beaming Meda ran frantically from the one room to the other,

And from the other to the one,

Was saying,

Yes,

Aren't they lovely little closets,

Running under the eaves like that?

I'm so glad you like them.

I was afraid you would think they were strange.

Yes,

That's old,

Old glass.

All of the window glass in the house is old,

And some of it is such a lovely color.

After a while,

The frantic shutting and opening of desk drawers,

Bureau drawers,

And closet drawers ceased.

The ohs and ahs died down from the lack of breath.

Meda led the way into the south room at the left.

This is the guest chamber.

And now,

She added,

Heading the file through a door at the back of the small hall,

Which led into a big,

Long room,

Were out of the main house and in the annex.

This is the nursery.

It is over the dining room.

The nursery was a big room,

With a little bed in each corner,

Miniature tables,

And chiffonies all painted white.

Molly,

Timmy,

Dorothy,

Mabel,

Meda pointed to the four beds.

Delia will sleep in that room at the left with her mother,

And Betsy in this room at the right with Granny Flynn.

You see,

Both these rooms open into the nursery,

And Granny and Mrs.

Dora can keep an eye on what's going on here.

They'll have to keep two eyes on it if Betsy's here,

Rosie prophesied.

Now,

Except for the laundry and some empty rooms in the annex,

I think you've seen everything.

Everything,

That is,

Except Flora Bell's and Zeke's room.

I don't suppose you want to see them.

And besides,

I'd have to ask their permission.

If I see another thing this day,

Rosie declared desperately,

I shall die of happiness this minute.

Fortunately,

However,

She was not called upon to gaze on any object which would have resulted in so speedy a demise.

For just at that moment,

The cowbell rang.

That's supper,

Meda explained.

Reinforcing the cowbell's call came Mrs.

Dora's voice.

You must come down now,

Children.

Your supper's on the table,

All nice and hot.

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Sleep well.

Reviews

What an exciting adventure for the children. I am loving the story.

I loving this second story, problem is I have to listen so many times before I can hear it all as within 5 minutes I’m asleep 😁

I like Maida and this story, at least what I heard before drifting off. Thank you, Joanne! 💕😻