Winterbound by Margery Williams Bianco Page B

Garry’s winter salad, if it ever sprouted at all, threatened to come up striped like Joseph’s coat. Hooking was harder work than Kay realized; her fingertips grew sore tugging the rags through the stiff burlap, but she kept on at it doggedly, neglecting everything else.
    Caroline had no part in these activities except to help in cutting up rags, of which she soon tired. The after-Christmas days began to weigh on her heavily. The boys were busy on their own affairs and Shirley was in bedwith a cold. She took to hanging aimlessly about and one morning when the girls wanted to discuss something in peace and quiet Garry turned on her.
    â€œCan’t you for heaven’s sake find something to do , Caroline! With this whole house and the state of Connecticut to play in, you’ve got to stick right under foot every minute. Now go—scat and vamoose. Beat it!”
    â€œI’m going,” Caroline ruffled like an angry chicken. “I was just going anyhow. And you needn’t be so smart either and give yourself all those idiotic airs just because you think you look like Amelia Earhart with your hair that way, ’cause you don’t, even if you do keep her picture stuck away in your bureau drawer to look at when you think nobody knows about it.”
    Garry made a feint with the dishcloth, for that particular shaft went home.
    â€œThat child gets worse and worse. I don’t know what’s come over her these days,” declared Kay as the kitchen door slammed. “She doesn’t get it from the Rowes, anyway.”
    â€œDid you ever hear Shirley when she gets thoroughly mad?” asked Garry, smiling in spite of herself. “Caroline needs Penny’s stern hand; she’s the only one to keep her in order.”
    â€œShe’ll get more than Penny’s hand; she’ll get mine, pretty quick, if she doesn’t mend her ways. I do thinklittle girls when they get that age are absolutely detestable,” Kay seemed to forget that she had ever gone through that same detestable stage herself.
    â€œWell, school begins Monday, praise be. Let’s get back to this bill situation. How do we stand?”
    â€œNowhere.” Kay bent a worried look on the pile of close-written grocery slips in her hand. “They all come in a bunch. I’ve paid the telephone and I thought I’d paid up the meat market, but now half of last month’s things seem to have come on this. And there’s the grocery. Garry, do you remember that we had four dozen eggs last month? We couldn’t possibly. We were getting eggs from Mary right along.”
    â€œThere was the time their hens stopped laying,” Garry remembered. “Mary didn’t have enough to give us. It must have been then.”
    â€œAnd butter. What we do with butter I don’t know. Penny said to check our slips over every week and I always mean to, but I guess I haven’t. We must have ordered an awful lot of stuff while the Cummings was here; she was forever telling me we were out of things and I just put them down without looking, I suppose. We did get some extra things over Christmas, and the meat bill’s heavy because I feel with Martin and Caroline walking all that way to the bus every day they’ve got to have good meals when they come home. And then there’stheir green vegetables, too. Caroline fusses over cabbage and I always thought spinach was cheap, but here it’s been eighteen cents a pound all this time. And there were Martin’s shoes. Those are extra, but that would only make three dollars off.”
    Garry studied the slips spread on the table, whistling softly.
    â€œIt does seem a lot, just for eating. What do you do—make the list just as you think?” For so far the housekeeping had been entirely in Kay’s hands.
    â€œI go through the pantry and order what we’re out of and what I think we’ll need. It’s how Penny always did. I guess