Drift Off To Maida's Little House (Chapter 24 - 26)

Welcome back sleepy listeners,

To a relaxing evening here at Drift Off,

Where I whisk you away to the land of dreams with sleepy tales.

I'm your host Joanne,

And tonight we continue our journey with Meda,

As I read a few more chapters from Meda's Little House,

The second book from the beloved Meda series.

Now,

Let's take a moment together to unwind and settle into a state of relaxation.

Close your eyes.

Take a deep breath in,

And exhale slowly.

Feel the tension melting away from your body as you prepare to drift off into a world of wonder and imagination.

My friend,

Just relax and listen as we continue our journey once more into Meda's world,

Where every corner holds a new adventure and every page is filled with the promise of friendship.

And so,

Go ahead and snuggle up under those cozy blankets and enjoy the story.

Chapter 24,

Guests As Meda came around the bend in the path leading to the Little House,

She found Rosie,

Laura,

Arthur,

Harold,

And Dickie standing in a straight line like soldiers.

"'We have to report that,

' they all chanted in a serious voice.

"'Mother is very comfortable,

And will be back in a week,

' announced the joyful Dickie.

"'Granny Flynn has returned,

' said Laura,

Beaming.

"'Florabelle's in the kitchen,

' Harold said with a smile.

"'Zeke is in the garden,

' Arthur added triumphantly.

"'Your father's in the living room waiting for you,

' said Rosie,

Her eyes sparkling.

"'My father?

' Meda exclaimed happily.

"'My father!

Oh,

What a blessing that is!

' She dropped her bicycle.

"'Oh,

Rosie,

Will you put my bike away for me?

I need to see my father right now.

' She didn't wait for Rosie's cheerful,

Yes,

Of course silly,

But raced across the grass.

Soon,

The Little House was buzzing with activity.

Downstairs in the living room,

Mr.

Westerbrook was busy on the telephone,

As he had been most of the time.

Upstairs in the Little House,

Florabelle was getting the spare room ready for a guest.

In the barn upstairs,

Zeke was setting up a cot for another guest.

In the kitchen,

Rosie was frantically making popovers.

Between the flower garden and the spare room,

Laura and Meda were moving back and forth like two busy bees decorating with flowers.

Outside on the lawn and in the vegetable garden,

The boys were working hard to make everything,

As Rosie called it,

Just right.

The smaller children,

Meanwhile,

Were getting in everyone's way,

Since nobody was paying much attention to them.

Around noon,

The big grey limousine arrived at the end of the trail.

Zeke hurried down to it.

He and Botkins carefully lifted out the small figure lying in the back,

Carried her up the path to the house,

And then upstairs to the guest room.

An excited group of children,

All the young residents of the Little House,

Followed behind.

All right,

Silva?

Meda asked.

And Silva faintly replied,

Yes.

Rosie added,

We're all so glad you're going to be here with us.

And Laura said,

Once you're well,

You'll have to teach us how to make those beautiful baskets.

The boys didn't seem to know what to do,

But they tried,

Though not very successfully,

To help the two men.

Upstairs,

The girls were left alone with Silva.

Meda immediately took off the long,

Worn-out coat Silva was wearing,

Along with her stained blouse and ragged skirt.

She dressed Silva in one of her own simple white nightgowns,

And then put on her favorite dressing gown made of organdy muslin with pink ribbons.

Laura brought a pair of pink bed shoes and slipped them on Silva's slender feet.

Rosie added a boudoir cap made of white lace and pink ribbons,

Which she had quickly made while waiting for Silva.

Then,

Seeing the pleading look in Silva's eyes,

Rosie brought the cooing little Nesta and placed her in Silva's arms.

My father is going to send for your father,

Silva,

Meda explained.

He's going to ask you if Tima and the baby can stay with us.

Your father will say yes.

People always say yes to my father.

And then,

If you like,

We'd love for you to live with us as long as we're here.

Only a few weeks more,

Rosie added sadly,

Then school starts.

Silva,

Only half listening,

Kissed her little sister over and over again,

And her eyes filled with tears.

She couldn't hold them back.

Finally,

She put her head down on the arm of her chair and cried.

The others stood in silent fear.

Rosie,

The first to recover,

Quietly took Nesta away.

Silva didn't try to stop her.

Meda slipped into the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth and towel,

Gently washing Silva's face.

Silva didn't resist.

Laura disappeared and returned with a bottle of perfume,

Which she lightly sprinkled on Silva.

You're all so kind to me,

Silva said when she could finally speak.

And when I think of how I treated you,

I didn't want to,

But I had to.

But when I'm better,

I'll happily show you how to make baskets.

And I know where the biggest and best berries grow.

I'll take you to all my secret places.

I'm so grateful.

I really am,

With all my heart.

Outside,

The wind was howling,

The rain was pouring,

And everything seemed chaotic.

Sometimes a tree branch would crash down to the ground,

And the branches of the big tree near Meda's window constantly scraped against the house.

The wind swirled around,

And the rain would pound against one side of the house like a shower of bullets,

Then suddenly whip against another side like a bunch of twigs.

Inside,

Though,

It was warm,

Bright,

And filled with laughter and conversation.

The older children were gathered around the big fireplace in the living room.

Rosie was kneeling by the fire,

Busy with a corn popper,

While Laura sat beside her,

Toasting macaroons on the end of a long fork.

Silva and Meda were bringing in large pans of molasses candy that just wouldn't cool.

The boys were fanning it,

Trying to get it ready to eat.

The younger children were running around,

Either looking at books or playing games,

Perfectly sure that the dreaded bedtime of eight o'clock could be postponed for this one evening.

Mrs.

Dorr,

Who was feeling much better,

Was rocking Delia,

Who had tired out early.

Amid all this excitement,

Granny Flynn was calmly reading from her Lives of the Saints.

I can't believe summer's over,

Rosie suddenly exclaimed.

I don't want to believe it.

Why can't things like this last forever?

I couldn't believe it either,

Laura agreed,

Until the storm came.

The weather's been so warm that I didn't think autumn was really here.

But today and yesterday have felt more like fall.

Autumn is here when the goldenrod and asters bloom,

Silva said.

I know,

Meda agreed sadly.

I'm so happy when the flowers come,

But it makes me sad when they go.

Watching them disappear reminds me that summer's slipping away.

If the flowers stayed after they bloomed,

You wouldn't notice it so much.

But they don't.

They go.

First the dandelions,

Then the violets,

Then the daisies,

Buttercups,

Wild roses and iris,

Then the elderberry and sumac,

And finally the goldenrod and asters.

And as soon as each one stops blooming,

You realize that part of the summer's gone.

And when you see the red rose hips,

She touched the long necklace of red berries she was wearing,

You know fall has begun.

I never thought of it that way before,

Laura said.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the flowers stayed until the end of summer,

Even the dandelions?

But I guess there wouldn't be enough room for them all.

This storm definitely makes me think of fall,

Arthur said.

Yeah,

And this fire,

Dickie added.

It reminds me of school,

Harold said with a sigh.

Everyone groaned.

Maybe it's the popcorn,

Rosie said,

And the apples.

But tonight feels like Halloween.

Oh,

Do you remember the great Halloween party we had at Laura's last year?

Do I?

Maeda replied.

Of course I do.

It was the first Halloween party I ever went to.

I'll remember it as long as I live.

I remember sitting in the window of the little shop,

Watching all the pumpkin lanterns bobbing along Primrose Court.

It was so lovely.

I still can't believe it,

Rosie said dreamily,

Even as she vigorously shook the popper.

That next Sunday night,

We'll be back in Charlestown.

And Monday morning,

It'll be school again.

How will we ever get used to being indoors?

I'll feel trapped.

I'll miss everything,

Oh so much.

But what I'll miss most is my little room outside.

Oh no,

That's not it,

She corrected herself.

What I'll miss most is the cave.

Everything that happens to us feels like a storybook,

But the cave was the most storybook-like of all.

I was so disappointed when we reached the end of it.

I had hoped it would be a mammoth cave with a big river,

Blind fish and chambers filled with stalactites and stalagmites.

If it had been,

Timma Burrell said wisely,

People would have come to see it all the time,

And it wouldn't be our cave anymore.

I enjoy tennis the most,

Timma continued.

I think it's the best game in the world.

No wonder you like tennis,

Laura said,

When you can beat everyone at it.

Oh,

It still makes me mad that even though I've been playing tennis for two years,

Timma has to give himself a handicap when he plays with me.

Everyone laughed,

Always amused by how easily Timma beat Laura on the tennis court,

Which often led to Laura's fiery outbursts.

I enjoyed the deer the most,

Arthur said.

This conversation had now turned into a game.

Arthur continued,

Having those deer around feels the most like Robin Hood,

Like something out of Kipling or Stevenson.

When I come across a group of them in the woods,

I feel.

.

.

I don't even know how to describe it.

I know what Dickie likes most,

Maeda said.

What?

Dickie asked.

The white peacocks.

Dickie admitted it,

But I like the swimming,

Canoeing and tennis too,

He added,

As if feeling a bit jealous of his new favorite activities.

But of course,

The white peacocks most of all.

If Arthur thinks the deer are like adventure stories,

I think the peacocks are like all the fairy tales in the world come true.

What do you like best,

Maeda?

Maeda thought carefully.

Everything.

Having all of you here.

Oh,

But what's your favorite thing,

Maeda?

Rosie pressed.

There's always one thing you like more than the others.

I've never laughed so much in my life as I have at the things Betsy does,

Maeda admitted.

When I was little,

I was so sick that I never did anything really naughty.

But Betsy.

.

.

Oh,

She's such fun.

I've loved the housekeeping the most,

Laura said enthusiastically.

I never had the chance before to cook whatever I wanted in a real kitchen and dust rooms and arrange things and put flowers everywhere.

I just love setting the table for Sunday night supper.

I hate it,

Rosie burst out.

I hate everything you like,

Laura.

But I'm glad you like it because that means I don't have to do it.

Rosie poured the freshly popped corn into a big brown bowl.

Now,

Don't all grab at once,

She commanded,

As six eager hands reached for the table.

Wait until I pour the melted butter on it.

That makes it perfectly scrumptious.

There you go.

Now everyone,

Take a plate and spoon the popcorn onto it.

What have you liked most,

Sylva?

Maeda asked curiously,

Her mouth full of popcorn.

Oh,

Living in a house,

Sylva answered immediately.

You don't know how much fun that is for me.

I've always lived either in a tent or a wagon.

I've always longed to live in a house with lace curtains in the windows.

I can't tell you how much I love my little room.

But at first,

Do you know I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stand it?

It felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn't get enough air.

Many,

Many nights I got up and went downstairs in the middle of the night to sleep in the hammock.

Sometimes I felt like a bird in a cage,

Beating my wings like I've seen birds do.

I've never quite gotten used to it,

Tema admitted.

Sometimes,

Even now,

I have to get up in the middle of the night and go outside to sleep on the grass.

My!

Rosie exclaimed.

I think that would be a hard bad.

What have you liked most,

Harold?

Oh,

Riding my bicycle all over the place,

Harold explained.

Before,

We always went to Marblehead Neck and you had to go so far before you found any new places.

But here,

You start out in any direction and you're somewhere new before you know it.

The younger children,

Who had been lured out of the room as the popcorn got closer to being ready,

Now came back in to say goodnight.

As usual,

They didn't want to go to bed,

But they were comforted by the promise of a long train ride next Sunday.

Arthur cleverly hid the popcorn under his chair and Tema,

Mimicking him,

Shoved the apples under the couch so the goodnights went smoothly without any upset.

How well they all look,

Meda said proudly.

They're as freckled and sunburned as they can be and as chubby as little butterballs.

Chapter 26 Promise What are you going to do in the winter,

Meda?

Rosie asked.

I'm not sure,

Meda replied.

My father hasn't decided yet and it all depends on what he decides to do.

So if he goes to Europe,

You'd go too?

Rosie asked.

Yes,

Meda admitted.

But I don't think we'll go to Europe.

At least,

She added thoughtfully,

He hasn't mentioned that we would.

I really don't know what we'll do.

But if you don't go to Europe,

Will you go to school?

Silva asked.

I don't know,

Meda said.

Maybe I'll have a governess.

What would you prefer,

Meda?

Rosie persisted.

I think I'd rather go to school,

Meda answered honestly.

And what kind of school?

Rosie kept asking.

Oh,

The school you all go to in Charlestown.

I'd love that.

Oh,

I wish your father would let you,

Rosie said eagerly.

Wouldn't it be fun?

But then,

You already know everything that they could teach you there.

You know geography,

History and literature.

Oh,

But my arithmetic is awful,

Meda confessed.

And my spelling too.

And my father says he's ashamed of my handwriting.

But you speak French,

Laura said enviously.

And Italian.

Just a little Italian,

Meda admitted.

But you can read fairy tales in French,

Dickie said.

Oh,

What a lucky girl.

Yes,

I do feel lucky about that,

Meda agreed.

And even if you're not great at arithmetic,

You know all about English,

French and Italian That's amazing.

It's easy to learn that,

Meda said modestly.

I wish I knew fractions,

Percentages and square roots like Rosie.

Rosie was the best in arithmetic in our class,

Dickie declared.

She could beat anyone.

And as for mental arithmetic,

Wow.

And she always won the spelling bees.

I've never been in a spelling bee class.

I've never had a spelling bee in my life,

Meda said sadly.

I think I'd enjoy it.

Except I'd probably mess up the first word they gave me.

Yeah,

Dickie said.

They always give you tricky words like receive and believe or Mississippi and separate.

I'll never learn how to spell separate as long as I live.

I'll tell you how to remember it,

Harold offered.

There's a city in South America called Parra.

So I always remember there's a Parra in the middle of separate.

Wow,

That makes it easy,

Dickie said gratefully.

I won't forget that.

Then he added,

I hate school.

So do I,

Said Rosie.

So do I,

Said Laura.

So do I,

Said Arthur.

So do I,

Said Harold.

I've never been to school,

Meda said sadly.

Neither have I,

Admitted Silva.

Me neither,

Said Timma.

You'd want to go to school if you never had the chance,

Meda told the group of grumblers.

Isn't that true,

She asked Silva and Timma.

They both nodded.

Everyone wants what they don't have,

Rosie said eagerly.

Now I'd like to travel like Meda.

Who wouldn't,

Exclaimed Laura and Arthur together.

And I'd like to have a tutor,

Dickie said.

Someone to read to you and answer all your questions.

I think that would be great.

I don't think you'd like school for long,

Meda,

Rosie said.

At least not the kind of school we go to.

Isn't that right,

Arthur?

Arthur nodded.

They're not fun.

When the teacher puts the arithmetic problems on the blackboard,

Rosie said,

I finish them in five minutes.

I'm good at arithmetic,

And they're usually correct.

Then there's nothing to do while the other kids finish but read from my reader,

Which I've read a million times,

Or my geography,

Which I know by heart,

Or the supplementary reading,

Which is just as familiar.

That sounds boring,

Meda said thoughtfully.

And when we have to write compositions,

I nearly die,

Rosie continued.

I hate compositions.

I never know what to say.

I always have to stay after school.

But,

Rosie,

You write the most wonderful letters,

Meda protested.

I loved getting them while I was abroad.

You told me everything I wanted to know,

And they always made me laugh.

Oh,

Well,

Letters aren't the same as writing.

Anyone can write letters.

I can't,

Arthur said.

I hate writing letters.

I don't think writing letters is easy,

Laura said,

Even if Meda and Rosie make it look easy.

I think they're just as hard as writing a composition.

If you can write a letter,

You should be able to write a composition.

And if you can write a composition,

You should be able to write a letter.

And then,

Arthur continued,

Geography in school is so dull.

You never learn about the places you want to know about.

The Sahara Desert,

The North Pole,

The jungles of Africa,

The Great Wall of China,

Mammoth Cave or the Grand Canyon,

Or history.

I like to study about Richard the Lionheart,

Robert Bruce,

William Tell,

Thermopylae,

The Alamo,

The Battle of Hastings,

Waterloo,

And Gettysburg,

But we never learn about them.

Wow,

Rosie exclaimed.

I don't even know what those are.

Sometimes I like school,

Dickie said hesitantly.

That's because you've only been in school for one year,

Laura said scornfully.

Well,

I'd rather be with you in a boring school,

Meda insisted,

Than not be with you at all.

Now,

Next summer in the little house.

Next summer?

Rosie interrupted.

Oh,

Meda,

Is there going to be a next summer?

Is there going to be a next summer?

Meda repeated,

Looking around at the eager faces,

All waiting anxiously for her answer.

Of course there's going to be a next summer.

Why wouldn't there be?

You never said there would be a next summer,

Dickie said,

Speaking for the group.

Oh,

I could jump up and down.

I will jump up and down,

Rosie declared,

And did,

Making the glass pendants on the chandelier jingle.

Meda could only repeat weakly.

Of course there's going to be a next summer.

I thought you all understood.

Not just one summer,

But many more summers to come,

A voice said from behind them.

They all turned and jumped to their feet.

Mr.

Westerbrook had quietly entered the room and had apparently heard much of their conversation.

A whole line of summers,

One after another,

He added,

As he took the easy chair that Arthur pushed in the circle for him.

He helped himself to some popcorn from the plate Rosie filled and handed to him,

Took an apple from Laura,

And accepted a piece of molasses candy from Tima.

You've got a permanent invitation to join us every summer.

Rosie jumped up and down again,

This time even more excitedly.

Laura danced the length of the room,

Spinning into beautiful pirouettes.

Silva didn't move except to lean forward and stare intently at Mr.

Westerbrook.

The boys pulled their chairs closer in a circle around him.

So you don't think schools are very interesting?

Mr.

Westerbrook asked Arthur.

Not any that I've been to,

Arthur answered quickly.

Do you think they could be made interesting?

Mr.

Westerbrook continued.

I'm not sure,

Arthur replied.

But Rosie jumped in impulsively.

Of course they could.

How?

Mr.

Westerbrook asked,

His question short and direct.

By letting us study what we want and the way we want to study it,

Rosie answered without hesitation.

I guess that's as good an answer as I could get,

Mr.

Westerbrook said.

What would you say,

He continued slowly,

If we tried to have a school like that here?

He kept talking as if he didn't notice the growing excitement among his listeners.

A school where,

As Rosie said,

You could study what you want in the way you want.

A school with plenty of books to read,

Dictionaries,

Encyclopedias,

And reference books to look things up.

A school with the newest maps and globes.

A school with lots of travel,

Discovery,

And exploration.

A school with gardens to grow.

A school with a magic lantern,

An aquarium,

And.

.

.

Meta couldn't hold back any longer.

Father,

She burst out.

You're going to have a school like that for us?

I've got it,

Mr.

Westerbrook announced.

And you're all going to that school this winter.

Oh my goodness,

Rosie said in a quiet,

Odd voice.

If anything else happens,

I'll die of happiness.

Do our parents know?

Laura asked.

No,

Mr.

Westerbrook repeated calmly.

They helped us decide what you'll study there.

And we won't be separated after all?

Dickey said,

His voice shaking with happiness.

No.

What's the name of the school?

Harold asked.

It doesn't have a name yet,

Mr.

Westerbrook replied.

I know what to call it,

Arthur said,

His face lighting up.

We've had Meta's Little Shop,

And Meta's Little House.

Why not call it Meta's Little School?

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Sleep well.