A young girl delights in her grandmother’s stories of days gone by, sparked by keepsakes and simple questions, Grandma shares marvelous stories of mischief , discovery, and laughter, such as a beautiful heart-shaped locket and a curl that cost Grandma more than a lock of hair. Part of the bestselling Grandma’s Attic series, these charming tales—updated with delightful new illustrations—will whisk you away to another time and place. And you’ll find something worth far more than any treasure or keepsake…timeless lessons of life and faith! The late Arleta Richardson grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan. There, her storyteller grandmother recounted memories of her childhood on a 19th century farm, tales Arleta was inspired to share Arleta retells those tales vividly, stories that have now reached more than two million people around the world. More Stories From Grandma's Attic By Arleta Richardson David C. Cook Copyright © 1979 Arleta Richardson All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7814-0380-1 Contents Grandma's Stories, Introduction: When Grandma Was Young, 1. The Nuisance in Ma's Kitchen, 2. Grandma's Sampler, 3. Mrs. Carter's Fright, 4. When Grandma Needed Prayer, 5. The Stranger, 6. The Big Snowstorm, 7. Grandma and the Slate, 8. A Pig in a Poke, 9. Grandma's Day Off, 10. How News Spread, 11. Charlotte, 12. The Slate Pencil, 13. What Shall We Write About?, 14. The Cover-Up, 15. The Haircut, 16. Grandma Makes a Friend, CHAPTER 1 The Nuisance in Ma's Kitchen When Grandma called from the backyard, I knew I was in for it. She was using her would-you-look-at-this voice, which usually meant I was responsible for something. "What, Grandma?" I asked once I reached the spot where she was hanging up the washing. "Would you look at this?" she asked. "I just went into the kitchen for more clothespins and came back out to find this." I looked where she was pointing. One of my kittens had crawled into the clothes basket and lay sound asleep on a clean sheet. "If you're going to have kittens around the house, you'll have to keep an eye on them. Otherwise leave them in the barn where they belong. It's hard enough to wash sheets once without doing them over again." Grandma headed toward the house with the soiled sheet, and I took the kitten back to the barn. But I didn't agree that it belonged there. I would much rather have had the whole family of kittens in the house with me. Later I mentioned this to Grandma. "I know," she said. "I felt the same way when I was your age. If it had been up to me, I would have moved every animal on the place into the house every time it rained or snowed." "Didn't your folks let any pets in the house?" I asked. "Most of our animals weren't pets," Grandma admitted. "But there were a few times when they were allowed in. If an animal needed special care, it stayed in the kitchen. I really enjoyed those times, especially if it was one I could help with." "Tell me about one," I said, encouraging her to tell me another story about her childhood. "I remember one cold spring," she began, "when Pa came in from the barn carrying a tiny goat." * * * "I'm not sure we can save this one." Pa held the baby goat up for us to see. "The nanny had twins last night, and she'll only let one come near her. I'm afraid this one's almost gone." Ma agreed and hurried to find an old blanket and a box for a bed. She opened the oven door, put the box on it, and gently took the little goat and laid it on the blanket. It didn't move at all. It just lay there, barely breathing. "Oh, Ma," I said. "Do you think it will live? Shouldn't we give it something to eat?" "It's too weak to eat right now," Ma replied. "Let it rest and get warm. Then we'll try to feed it." Fortunately it was Saturday, and I didn't have to go to school. I sat on the floor next to the oven and watched the goat. Sometimes it seemed as though it had stopped breathing, and I would call Ma to look. "It's still alive," she assured me. "It just isn't strong enough to move yet. You wait there and watch if you want to, but don't call me again unless it opens its eyes." When Pa and my brothers came in for dinner, Reuben stopped and looked down at the tiny animal. "Doesn't look like much, does it?" I burst into tears. "It does so!" I howled. "It looks just fine! Ma says it's going to open its eyes. Don't discourage it!" Reuben backed off in surprise, and Pa came over to comfort me. "Now, Reuben wasn't trying to harm that goat. He just meant that it doesn't ... look like a whole lot." I started to cry again, and Ma tried to soothe me. "Crying isn't going to help that goat one bit," she said. "When it gets stronger, it will want something to eat. I'll put some milk on to heat while we have dinner." I couldn't leave my post long enough to go to the table, so Ma let me hold my plate in my lap. I ate dinner watching the goat. Suddenly it quivered and opened its mouth. "It's moving, Ma!" I shouted. "You'd better bri