Houseboat Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

river,” said Mama.
    “That’s why Daddy likes it so much. It’s a free life—he can do what he pleases. He’s his own boss. If he wants to go, he goes. If he wants to stay, he stays.”
    “But if he likes the river so much, why doesn’t he stay on it?” asked Patsy.
    “Stop fussing,” said Mama. “There’s good fishing here and we’re staying until Daddy feels like moving on.”
    “Oh—I just want to see New Orleans so bad!” cried Patsy.
    “Go and feed your chickens,” said Mama.
    A month had passed and the Fosters were still at Mayfield Creek. It was a pleasant location in the chute between Island No. 1 and Cane Island, with a sloping river bank and trees for shade. They lived in the houseboat, fished up and down the river, and peddled the fish in nearby towns. Daddy had rented a second-hand Ford to drive around in.
    “We might as well have stayed at River City,” said Patsy. “Daddy fished and sold fish there. He had his own little fish house and all the people in town came to buy from him.”
    “There were three other fish houses in River City,” said Mama. “Daddy had too much competition.”
    Fish, fish, fish! The Fosters’ whole life was nothing but fish. Sometimes Patsy wished she had never seen one. She never ate fish and she hated the constant fishy smell.
    One morning Mama was washing clothes on the river bank. Daddy had strung the wire clothesline up between two trees. When Mama began to hang the clothes up, she looked at the sky.
    “I hope it won’t rain,” she said. “Bring the clothespins here, Patsy.”
    Patsy heard voices and looked up.
    “Mama,” she said, “somebody’s comin’ to see us.”
    A woman came down the river bank. She held two children by the hand, a boy of eight and a girl of ten.
    “Howdy! How you folks doin’?” she called out.
    Mrs. Foster said politely, “Good morning.”
    “I’m Miz Preston,” the woman said. “I live in that two-story house up there on the road.”
    “Glad to meet you,” said Mrs. Foster. She hung up the last pair of overalls and came over. “Come in and set down.” To Patsy she said, “Go get the clothes props and prop up the line.”
    The woman followed but stopped at the stage plank.

    “I seen your shack down here…” she began.
    “My what?” asked Mrs. Foster.
    “Your shack!” repeated Mrs. Preston. “Oh well, what do you call it, then?”
    “I call it a houseboat,” said Mrs. Foster.
    Patsy came up and stared at the newcomers. She had seen the children up by their house but had never spoken to them. They were nicely dressed and had socks and shoes on. Their hair was all slicked back. They stared back at her in return.
    “On the Ohio River, it’s called a shantyboat,” explained Mrs. Foster, “but in Louisiana and Arkansas it’s a houseboat.,”
    “Do you live on it?” asked Mrs. Preston.
    “We sure do,” said Mrs. Foster. “Come on in, the stage plank will hold you. Come on in and set down.”
    The women and children stepped across the plank warily.
    “Aren’t you afraid your kids will get drownded?” Mrs. Preston asked.
    “They’re too mean for that!” Mrs. Foster laughed.
    Patsy spoke up. “We’re not either mean.”
    “Well, Patsy is O. K.,” Mrs. Foster admitted. Tom the cat was rubbing against her skirts. “But between her and the cat, I don’t know which one is meanest!”
    “Don’t she ever fall in?” asked the woman.
    “Laws yes,” said Mrs. Foster. “Patsy’s my unluckiest one. She’s always fallin’ in the river.”
    “I never let my two go near it,” said Mrs. Preston. “I don’t trust that old river as far as I can see it.” She held her children firmly by the hand.
    Patsy looked at them in disgust. They were worse babies than Bunny and Dan. There would be no fun playing with them.
    Mrs. Foster laughed. She and Mrs. Preston sat down on the leather couch.
    “Fallin’ in is an old story with us,” Mrs. Foster went on. “That’s why I’m gettin’ gray hairs.