Spring's Gentle Promise Read Online Free Page B

did determine that in the future I would carefully check any food or drink offered me from the hand of my young nephew.

C HAPTER 4

Summer
    T HINGS SETTLED DOWN AGAIN after Sarah and Jon went off to their home. I think even Mary was glad for the peace and quiet, though she never admitted it. She had much to do, with the garden now in full swing. Her hands never seemed to be empty nor her body still.
    The summer was busy for me as well. There was haying, the war with farm weeds, the continual care of the stock and fences; and before we could scarcely turn around, the summer would be drawing to an end.
    I was glad for Sundays. It was the one day of the week that, with a clear conscience and no guilty feelings, one could actually take a bit of a break. It was good to be driving into town for the church service—though I must confess that as I sat behind the slow-moving team, I kept thinking more and more of the time we’d save in traveling if I had that motor car.
    On a couple of Sundays we stayed on to dinner with Lou and Nat and their three. That was about the only chance we really had to catch up on the happenings of one another’s lives.
    Baby Timothy was growing so fast it was hard to keep up to him. He celebrated his first birthday in June and was busy with the task of learning how to walk—how to run might more aptly describe it. Timmy wanted to be in on the fun with his older brother and sister and tagged around after them as fast as his sturdy little legs would allow.
    “The crop’s looking good and seems to be a little ahead of schedule,” I told Nat over one of our Sunday dinners. “It might well be our best crop yet,” I admitted.
    But I went from day to day with one eye on the sky and the other on my fields. I knew without being told that one good hailstorm could change everything, and deep inside me, I kind of wished there was some way I could make a little bargain with God. But of course I didn’t try. I had the good sense—and faith— to know that He knew all about our needs and my wishes, and that in His love He would take care of our future. But oh, my, how I did hope that the future didn’t include hail.
    In next to no time Matilda was breezing in again. The two girls hugged and squealed and laughed like they’d been apart for years. Even Grandpa and Uncle Charlie got enthusiastic squeezes. I accepted a small hug myself, then backed up and looked at Matilda’s glowing face.
    “How’s the crop, Josh?” she burst out before I had a chance to open my mouth. No “How are you?” or anything like that, but “How’s the crop?” and I knew just what she was thinking about. I was prepared to tease her a bit.
    I shrugged my shoulders and put a glum look on my face. “It might pay for the cuttin’,” I informed her drearily. “That is, if we don’t get any hail or such.”
    Matilda’s mouth went down at the corners, and a sound of disappointment escaped her lips.
    “Look on the bright side,” I said, patting her shoulder. “With good weather and no more problems, we’ll have a bit of seed grain for next spring.”
    Matilda looked awfully disappointed, even shamefaced.
    “I told all my friends that you’d be getting a—a motor car,” she said softly, her voice catching on the last word.
    “Well, now, I didn’t make me any promises on that, did I?” I said, keeping my expression somber. “Maybe you shouldn’t’a been tellin’ tales out of school.” But when she looked like she might cry, I decided I had gone far enough.
    “I’m just joshin’,” I grinned at her. “The crop looks good. Real good.” And as Matilda was about to exuberantly throw herself at me I hastened on, “Now remember, I’m still not promisin’. Just been thinkin’ on that automobile. No promises.”
    But Matilda didn’t seem one bit worried about the results of “thinkin’ on it.” Guess she knew me well enough to know I wanted that motor car too.
    She punched me on the arm with a little fist,