Spring's Gentle Promise Read Online Free Page A

added more soberly, “but he said, ‘Thet’s enough, Jonathan,’ and sent me back to Auntie Mary.”
    I tousled his hair. “And why did he do that?” I questioned. “Did you mix up weeds and vegetables?”
    Jon nodded his head, his eyes thoughtful. “I guess it was peas,” he said somberly, and I had to hide my smile.
    “Then I brought in the clothes for Auntie Mary,” he began, but ended with a shrug of his small shoulders. “But she hada take ’em back agin. They wasn’t dry yet.” Then Jon added quickly as though with great relief, “But Auntie Mary din’t scold me. Jest took the clothes and hung some back up an’—” His eyes lowered and then lifted again to mine. He finished with a grin that told me everything was all right. “An’ washed some of ’em agin an’ then hung them back up, too.”
    Poor Mary. She had enough work without re-doing the wash.
    “Here comes Aunt Mary now!” Jon excitedly pointed toward the farm buildings.
    He was right. Mary and Sarah were coming our way.
    “We brought you something, Uncle Josh,” Sarah called before they reached us.
    I looked at the small container in Sarah’s hands and then to Mary. Both young ladies seemed pleased with themselves.
    “Do I have to guess?” I asked Sarah.
    Puffing, she reached the spot where Jon and I still sat on the ground.
    “It’s a drink,” she said proudly.
    “A drink? That’s nice. But Jon here”—I ruffled the boy’s hair again—“he already beat you to it. But I guess another drink would—”
    But I stopped. The mention of the drink brought to me by young Jon had made Mary’s face blanch, her hand went to her mouth and she stood staring down at the red pail.
    “Is something wrong?” I asked Mary, but it was Sarah who answered the question for me, though in a rather roundabout fashion.
    “In that?” she squealed, pointing her finger at the red pail in the grass. Before I could even answer her she went on, “Jon was botherin’ Grandpa in the garden—hoeing up things— so Grandpa gave him that pail and sent him to water the flowers.”
    That didn’t sound so bad. I didn’t mind sharing water with the flowers. But Mary’s face was still pale and she hadn’t said one word except for a gaspy little, “Oh, Joshua.”
    “But,” went on Sarah, “Jon was dipping water from the stock trough!”
    For a moment my stomach rebelled. I even thought I might be sick. The thought of the horses and cattle slurping and snorting in my drinking water made my insides heave. I looked up at Mary’s white face and agonized expression. And then the whole thing struck me funny, and I pulled Jon closer into my arms, rolled over in the grass and began to tickle him and laugh. Not just little chuckles, but outright guffaws. Mary’s color returned to normal, and I saw she was trying to hide a snicker behind her hand. Then she looked at Jon and me tumbling on the grass together and began to laugh right along with me. Now my stomach hurt from laughter.
    When we finally got ourselves under control, we all sat down on the ground together and shared the cool lemonade Mary and Sarah had brought.
    “I guess if I can drink with the cows and horses, I can use the same cup as family,” I said and began to laugh again.
    “We have cookies, too,” Sarah informed me importantly. I think she was trying to get me to settle down. She didn’t seem to understand why I thought my drink from the stock trough was so funny. I tried to respond properly to Sarah’s announcement.
    “Cookies? What kind? Where did you find cookies?”
    “They’re sugar cookies and I made ’em—myself.” And then she quickly corrected her statement. “Auntie Mary and me made ’em.”
    “Can I have one? Can I have one, Sarah?” Jon was asking. Sure enough, there were some for all of us.
    I guess the lemonade and the sugar cookies had a settling effect on my stomach. At any rate, I suffered no ill effects from drinking water out of the stock trough, though I