Re-Creations Read Online Free PDF Page A

home, but now that she was here, Louise wondered in a mature little housewifely way what in the world they were going to do with her. She didn’t look at all fit for cooking and things like that, and Louise sighed wearily as she struggled with the buttons and thought of the day before her and the endless weeks that must go by before they could hope for the return of the dear mother who had made even poverty sweet and cheerful. And there was that matter of a spring hat and a costume to wear at the school play. She stole another glance at the lovely sleeping sister and decided it would not do to bother her with little trifles like that. She would have to manage them somehow herself. Then, with the last button conquered and a hasty tying-back of her yellow curls with a much-worn ribbon, she tiptoed responsibly from the room, taking care to shut the latch securely and silently behind her.
    She sped downstairs and went capably at the kitchen stove, coaxing it into brightness and glancing fearfully at the kitchen clock. It was six o’clock, and she could hear her father stirring about in his room. He would be down soon to look after the furnace, and then she must have breakfast on the table at once, for he must catch the six fifty-five car. The usual morning frenzy of rush seized her, and she flew from dining room to pantry cutting bread, and back to the stove to turn the bacon and be sure it did not burn. It was a mad race, and sometimes she felt like crying by the time she sat down to the table to pour her father’s coffee, which somehow, try as she would, just would not look or taste like Mother’s. She was almost relieved that her sister had given no sign of wakening yet, for she had not had time to make the breakfast table look nice, and it was kind of exciting to try to eat in a hurry and have “sort of company” to think about at the same time.
    The father came downstairs peering into the dining room anxiously, with an apology on his lips for his eldest child.
    “That’s right, Louise, I’m glad you let her sleep. She looked all wearied out last night with her long journey, and then I guess it’s been a kind of a shock to her, too.”
    “I guess it has,” said the little girl comfortably and passed him his cup of coffee and the bread plate. They both had a sense of relief that Cornelia was not there and that there was a legitimate reason for not blaming her for her absence. Neither had yet been willing to admit to their loyal selves that Cornelia’s attitude of apathy to the family hardship had been disappointing. They kept hoping against hope.
    Mr. Copley finished his coffee hurriedly and looked at his watch.
    “Better let her sleep as long as she will,” he said. “She’ll likely be awake before you need to go to school, and if she isn’t, you can leave a note telling her where to find things. Where’s Harry? Isn’t he up?”
    “Oh, yes, he went to the grocery for the soup bone he forgot to get last night. I was going to put it on cooking before I left. I thought maybe she wouldn’t know to—”
    “That’s right! That’s right! You’re a good little girl, Louise. Your sister’ll appreciate that. Make Harry eat a good breakfast when he gets back. It isn’t good to go out on an empty stomach, and we must all keep well and not worry Mother, you know.”
    “Yes, I know,” sighed the little girl with a responsible look. “I made him take a piece with him, and I’m saving something hot for him when he comes back. He’ll help me with the dishes, he said. We’ll make out all right. Don’t you worry, Father, dear.”
    The father, with a tender father-and-mother-both smile, came around and kissed her white forehead where the soft baby-gold hair parted and then hurried away to his car, thankful for the mother’s look in his youngest girl’s face, wondering whether they had chased it forever away from the eldest girl’s face by sending her too young to college.

    It was to the soft clatter of pots