Newspaper Page Text
Our Boys and Girls
WILLIE WAIT-A-MINUTE.
"I 'in going to take you off for a month's
vacation in the North Woods this summer,"
said father to mother one spring morning at
the breakfast table. "Willie? No, Willie's
not going with us."
"Willie not going with us?" Mother set
down her coffee cup in consternation. "Then
of course I can't go. "Willie's not to stay home
and keep house by himself, I suppose?"
Mother's eyes were reproachful.
"Will ie's going to have the best time he ever
had in his life. He's going to spend August
with Uncle Jim. It's all arranged, and the plan
stands." Father's voice had the quiet, de
cisive ring which brooked no gainsaying. "It
will do you good not to have him on your mind
every minute ? yes, it will. Miss him? Of
course we'll both miss him," he added gently.
"Perhaps next year we'll all go off together
somewhere, but this summer Willie is going to
spend in losing his title, and I'll wager," said
father briskly, "that one month with Uncle
Jim will do the trick."
"Ilis title?" asked mother blankly. "What
do you mean?"
"Willie tells us his own title fifty times a
day," said father. "How long is it sinec you
called him to breakfast?"
"The dear child!" said mother ezcusingly.
"I suppose it does take small fingers longer."
"'Small fingers' fiddlesticks!" father
laughed back. "Small fingers ought to be
spryer than big ones. It's a matter more se
rious than small fingers. I'll call him again,
and I'll wager he'll give us his own title in
answer. ""Willie, come to breakfast!"
"Yes, father," Willie's voice came pleas
antly from above. "Wait a minute!"
"It has gone so far," said father finally,
"that cure will come only in a new setting.
And you know Jim. On the tick about every
thing ? farm runs like a clock. It's 'wait a
minute' not only for breakfast, it's 'wait a
minute' all day long, about everything ?
school, practice, running errands, feeding the
chickens, going to bed. What excuse is there?
He has his watch."
"Uncle Jim is kind," began mother.
"Don't you worry," said father. "I wish
we were all three going there. No place like
Jim's farm for a good time, and it's the very
place where Willie will shed his title quickest.
Morning, son," he added as Willie entered the
room just as he himself rose from the table.
"Has your watch stopped?"
"Why, no, father," said Willie, pulling it
out,. "I said I'd be down in a minute."
"It's not one minute; it's exactly seventeen
minutes since you made that remark," said
father gravely. "Good-by. I'm off."
"O father, wait a minute; I want to ask
you ? "
"My train doesn't wait a minute," answered
father as he went out the front door without
a pause.
* ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
"You'll call me on time?" asked Willie
pagerly the first evening at the farm, taking
the lighted candle in the shiny brass candle
stick that Aunt Helen handed him.
"We truly will," said Aunt Helen, smiling
his eagerness.
"Good-night."
"We'll do the calling," added TTncle Jim
pleasantly, "but don't forget that you'll do
the getting up. Sure your watch is going?
Good-night/'
Upstairs in his low gable-windowed little
room Willie undressed quickly and crawled
into bed between cool smooth sheets. "Cows
to milk, sheep to turn out, hay to cut," he num
bered to-morrow's joys as he lay in bed lazily
watching the white curtains blow inward in
the gentle breeze. And the very next minute,
or so it seemed, Uncle Jim stuck his head in
the door and called: "Time to get up! Time
to get up! Waffles and maple sugar for break
fast! Awake f Sure?"
"Waffles and maple sugar for breakfast!"
There was no mistake about Willie's beiiut
awake, and Uncle Jim strode down the stairs.
After all, it was barely light, and wasn't the
bed comfy! Of course not for anything would
he miss waffles and maple sugar for breakfast,
but theft they'd call him again, he'd wait just
a minute ? and the next thing he knew the
sunshine was flooding the whole room.
Willie fished under his pillow for his watch.
Nine o'clock! Why, they hadn't called him
again! O, he was sorry; he hadn't meant to
keep Aunt Helen waiting so long to cook his
waffles ? no, he hadn't. Aunt Helen had such
a lot to do. All the time he was dressing he
kept sniffing hopefully. Surely Aunt Helen
would hear him. Surely the first waffle must
be on!
Running downstairs in khaki play clothes,
he opened the door into a cool and orderly
kitchen. "Aunt Helen!" he called in gre.it
surprise. But there was no sign of Aunt Ilel >n.
and, what was more, there was no sign on the
stove of the waffle iron. It couldn't be that
waffles and maple sugar were over for th day !
But where was Aunt Helen?
No sign of her in the long tidy living room,
no sign or sound of her in the whole house.
Returning to the kitchen, he spied a white '
sheet of paper on the table, and looking more
closely he saw it was covered with Uncle Jim's
handwriting. "Dear Willie," the note began.
"Sorry you didn't get down for waffles and
maple sugar. They were good. Don't you
like them? Aunt Helen has gone blueberry -
ing. I've driven Bess to towTn to get her shod.
Sorry you weren't on hand to go along Help
yourself to breakfast ? anything you. like. If
the fire's out, rebuild it and cook your eggs."
Willie was a very astonished little boy when
he finished reading that note. "They didn't
wait for me!" he said aloud in a voice of great
surprise. "And they didn't leave me any
breakfast !"
"Guess I don't want any eggs," he thought
as he settled himself. "I do think Uncle Jim
might have waited for me to go to town with
him, 'cause I know he doesn't aro more'n oneo
a week. And Aunt Helen might have written
a note to say where she'd gone blueberrying.
And I wanted to see Uncle Jim milk, and 1
wanted to see him turn out the sheep."
It was a long, empty morning, but finally ?
it came to an end. Uncle Jim and Aunt Helen
came back within five minutes of each other.
"Hello, Willie!" called Uncle Jim as he
drove, whistling, into the yard just as if noth
ing bad happened.
"Hello, Willie!" called Aunt Helen cheerily
from the bend of the drive just as if nothing
had happened.
Wouldn't you think that, after the- waffle
less breakfast Willie would have been on hand
for dinner t O, yes, he meant to be, but ho
wasn't. ? 1
"Dinner in five minutes! Last call for din
ner!" Aunt Helen had called pleasantly, and
just a minute afterwards Willie heard a great
rattle of wheels down the lane. Could it be a
load of hay for the next farm? lie had to
sec.
"Wait a minute," he called, morning waf
fles forgotten. It was a hay load, and the
farmer smiled and said of eourse he could ride,
and the next farm was only one meadow be
yond, and ? well, he didn't think of dinner
again till he slipped off the fragrant load, safe
in the barn. No, not till then did he remember
walTlcs and maple sugar! Home he ran just
as fast as ever he could, washed at the pump
outside the kitchen door, and presented him
self at the dinner table. Would you believe it?
All there was to eat on the table was an apple
pie and a pitcher of milk.
"Hello, dear," Aunt Helen greeted him.
"Have some pie and a glass of milk?" And all
the time he smelled chicken in the kitchen.
"Pie? first?" faltered Willie.
"Pie ? last," corrected Uncle Jim pleasantly.
"First part of dinner's gone. Sure your watch
is going?"
"Yes, please, I'll have some pie and a glass
of milk," said Willie, his eyes down so they
shouldn't see two tears which would come into
them.
And in the middle of the afternoon he had
a very new, very empty feeling inside ? and
that evening he was on time for supper!
On Saturday, five days after he eame, Uncle
Jim said at breakfast (Willie had been on time
to the minute) : "We're going on a picnic
this afternoon. No, we don't often have time
to go, but Aunt Helen wants more blueberries
to put up. We'll help her pick a while, and
then you and I'll climb Lookout, if you like.
You said you wanted to. We're going to start
from this door at eleven sharp. You're going
to the north meadow to hunt arrowheads with
Jim Sharpe? All right; good luck to you.
Sure your watch is going?"
Now of course Willie meant to be back at
"eleven sharp," but somehow he fell into the
clutches of " wait-a-minute." It was so excit
ing to hunt arrow heads, especially after you
had found one. Surely Uncle Jim and Aunt
Helen wouldn't leave him behind on a picnic!
It was just quarter past eleven when he arrived
at the back door, breathless. Yes, he had run,
because somehow at the last minute he was
haunted by the thought of waffles and chicken
and several other things. But a picnic and a
chance to climb Lookout! They wouldn't go
without him ? but gone they had!
"Uncle Jim!" Willie ran to the barn. De
serted.
"Aunt Helen!" Willie ran to the house. De
serted.
"O Shep!" he wailed, burying his face in
the shaggy coat of the old dog asleep in the
shade of the maple. "O Shep!" And then
there wasn't a sound, no, not a sound, till to
Willie's ears came the insistent tick, tick of
his watch..
What do you think happened when Uncle
Jim and Aunt H^len drovAj home at sunset?
Willie was not sitting listlessly on the door
step; instead, he was bustling about so busily
inside the house that he jumped with surprise
when Aunt Helen said from the doorway:
"Why, Willie, you're a dear! Table set and
supper ready ! Bread and milk and blueberries
and cake, and dishes for everything!"
Uncle Jim, at her heels, added a hearty
"We're going on the same picnic next Satur
day for more blueberries, yes, same time for
the start, eleven sharp." Nobftdy said he was
(Continued on page 13.)