Houseboat Girl by Lois Lenski

Tennessee again,” said Daddy. “Seth Barker was never a man to stay in one place for long.”
    “It would do my heart good to see Edie again,” said Mama. “Let’s stop at O’Donald Bend and hunt them up.”
    “Like findin’ a needle in a haystack,” said Daddy, “but we’ll take a look at that chute.”
    “And maybe stop and stay a while?” asked Patsy eagerly.
    Daddy patted her on the back. “We just might do that, honey.”
    The houseboat made good headway down river, around Island No. 18, and came to Cottonwood Point ferry in lower Missouri, where Daddy had to stop for some minor repairs. The children begged Mama to let them go to the store at the ferry landing.
    “What for?” asked Mama.
    “We want to see what’s up there,” said Patsy. “See the town and the stores and the houses and the people.”
    “There’s no town at all,” said Mama, “nothing but a country road leading to the ferry.”
    “Daddy said there’s a gas station and a store,” said Patsy.
    “Gimme a nickel, Mama!” begged Dan and Bunny.
    “Gimme a nickel, too,” begged Patsy, bringing Mama’s purse.
    “Hush! All I got is pennies,” said Mama, giving some to each. “Go spend them if that’s any fun.”
    Bunny dropped one of hers. “Where’s my penny?” she cried. Patsy picked it up.
    Mama said, “Patsy, give it to Bunny.”
    Patsy who was running, threw the penny behind her. Bunny finally found it, said it was not hers and began wailing for the other one. Mama watched them as they ran, followed by the dog and cat.
    “Don’t let Blackie get lost,” she called after them.
    In half an hour they came back with bubble gum and began smacking it. Suddenly Dan burst out, “I know what bubble gum’s made out of!”
    “What?” asked Patsy.
    “Dead horses!” said Dan.
    “Oh!” cried Patsy. “How horrible!” She spat hers into the river. “Next time I’ll buy gumdrops.”
    Patsy went out to the back porch where Mama
    was peeling potatoes. She sat down quietly beside her and started to talk.

    “There was a girl up there at the store, Mama,” Patsy said, “and I didn’t like her at all.”
    “Why not?” asked Mama. “Anything wrong with her?”
    “She had a pretty dress on,” said Patsy, “and a gold ring on her finger.”
    “Well, what of it?” asked Mama. “Anything wrong with that?”
    “No, but…” Patsy began. “She wasn’t nice. She called us river rats ’cause we live on a houseboat.” Patsy began to cry and Mama took her in her arms to comfort her.
    “There’s just as good people on the river as on land,” said Mama, “and don’t you ever forget it, honey.”
    Soon the houseboat was on its way again. Arkansas was now on the west bank, although in some places, due to a changed course of the river, Tennessee was on both banks. Around Island No. 21 and on through Needham Cut-off the current was swift. The swiftest current of the whole river was between Caruthersville and Memphis. There were so many bends in the river now, the course of the houseboat was constantly changing direction.
    The river was never without drama, and often it came unexpectedly.
    “Look at the fishermen,” cried Dan, as they rounded Barfield Bend.
    “That’s jug-fishing,” said Milly. “See their jugs floating?”
    Several men were out, each in his own johnboat. Gallon jugs of glass, with stoppers in them and baited lines attached to the handles, had been tossed overboard. The fishermen floated slowly along, dumping out one jug after another about twenty feet apart. They had piles of jugs in their boats, each with its baited line wrapped around it. The men were kept busy following the jugs as they bobbed about in the river.
    Daddy sat on deck, letting the houseboat drift slowly by on the current. Suddenly a sound like the firing of a shotgun was heard.
    “He’s got one—a big fellow!” cried Patsy, excitedly. “Look! It’s pulled the jug under!”
    A catfish under water had got hold of the bait. When