All-of-a-Kind Family Uptown

by Sydney Taylor

  “It sure did, Ma, didn’t it?” Henny said hopefully.

  Mama regarded her sternly. “And now, Henny,” she continued, “since you’re such an experienced washer, you’ll do the entire family wash this week. It’s still early, so you can start by soaking the clothes right now. And there is a pair of parlor curtains that need dipping in tea. So you’ll do those also.”

  Henny made no protest. She went straight to work. It was so good to have the whole thing out in the open. As she leaned over the washtubs, churning the clothes in the soapy water, she sighed happily. Somehow it was as if her wrongdoings were being washed away too.

  Ella Takes Over

  “Dee-dul! Dee-dul!” Charlie sang as he trailed his stick along the foyer wall. “Dee-dul, dee-dul!” Down the length of one wall the stick rode, until at last it came to the open door leading into the dining room. Charlie’s bright smiling face peeped around the edge. “I go dee-dul all the way!” he announced, and immediately started the stick on its interesting journey again.

  “He’s so little he doesn’t even realize Mama is sick,” Gertie said, sniffling.

  Ella held up a warning finger. “You mustn’t cry, Gertie. We don’t want Mama to see us upset.”

  “But I can’t—help it. The tears—just—keep on coming.”

  Charlotte put her arms around Gertie. “Put your fingers on your eyes and press hard … and take big swallows. That’ll hold the tears back.”

  “Afterwards we can cry,” Sarah whispered.

  The downstairs bell rang loud and long. “I wanna tick back!” yelled Charlie, dropping his stick and racing madly into the kitchen. He stood under the buzzer, hopping up and down to reach it. Henny picked him up, and his eager fingers pressed hard on the little round button. “I pressed it!” Charlie announced, pleased with himself. He rushed back to his dee-dul game.

  Papa came out of the bedroom. “That must be the ambulance. They came very fast,” he said.

  How tired he looks, Ella thought. She longed to put her arms around him to comfort him.

  “Go in to Mama now, children, and tell her good-by,” Papa said. He paused briefly. “Be careful!”

  Mrs. Healy, their landlady, who lived downstairs, was standing at Mama’s bedside. Mama lay still in her bed, one arm across her face. “Mama,” Ella called softly. Slowly the arm came down. Mama turned her head and scanned the faces of her children, smiling wanly. “How are you ever going to get along?” she whispered in a troubled voice.

  Ella spoke confidently. “Now, don’t you worry, Ma. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t forget, I’m almost seventeen—practically a grownup!”

  “It’s going to be hard,” Mama said.

  “We’ll help, Mama. We’ll all work,” the sisters chimed in.

  “You’ll see,” added Papa. “They’ll do an A-1, first-class job. After all, they have such a wonderful teacher.”

  “Why, sure, there’s nothing to fret about,” Mrs. Healy said heartily. “These children of yours are okay. Besides, I’m right downstairs. They can always count on me to help out.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Healy,” Mama replied gratefully. “You’re a good, kind neighbor.” A spasm of pain made her turn her head to the wall.

  Papa let the hospital attendants in. Swiftly they bundled Mama in a blanket and lifted her onto the stretcher.

  Charlie came running over. “Mama’s getting a ride!” he cried, skipping alongside the stretcher.

  “My sweet little Charlie,” Mama murmured.

  The family followed the stretcher down the stairs and out into the July sunshine where the ambulance stood waiting.

  “I wanna ride in the car with Mama!” Charlie clamored.

  Papa picked him up and held him close.

  The ambulance began moving away from the curb, its warning bell clanging shrilly. Panic seized Charlie. “Mama!” he screamed. “Don’ go away, Mama! Don’ go away!”

  He beat at Papa with his little fists. “I wanna go with Mama!” With a sudden twist, he tore free of Papa and began to run after the ambulance.

  “Charlie, come back here!” Henny yelled. Ella caught hold of Charlie’s arm, but he wrenched himself loose and kept on running.

  Soon the ambulance had disappeared in the distance. Charlie came to a halt. He looked around despairingly. He felt lost and helpless. He began to weep bitterly.

  Papa knelt down and held out his arms. “Charlie, Charlie,” he said brokenly. “Mama’s coming back soon.”

  Charlie would not be comforted. He turned his back on Papa, wailing aloud his unhappiness.

  Charlie ran to Henny. She picked him up, and he buried his face in her shoulder. With heavy hearts, the family went slowly back to the house.

  All the while, Mrs. Healy’s daughter, Grace, had stood silently by on the low stoop. Now she came toward them. Gently she stroked Charlie’s hair. “Poor little boy,” she murmured. Suddenly she turned and ran into the house. She was back in no time. “Look, Charlie!” she cried. “Look what I’ve got!”

  Charlie peeked over Henny’s shoulder. There was something in Grace’s arms. His tear-streaked face came up slowly. He stared at the small furry ball curled up against Grace’s chest. “It’s a kitty! A baby kitty!” Grace continued coaxingly. Between sobs, Charlie’s hand reached out timidly to touch the gray softness. The kitty’s small pink mouth opened, and it mewed.

  “He talks … he talks when I pet him,” Charlie said in surprise. “Can I hold him?”

  “Uh-huh. But you’ll have to be careful. He’s so little.”

  “I be careful … I be very careful,” Charlie promised.

  So Henny set him down, and he held out his arms to receive the precious kitty. Then, gravely he walked to the stoop and sat down. Cradling the kitty, he cooed tenderly to it. “Don’ be scared, kitty—don’ cry. Mama’s coming back.”

  The kitty snuggled down contentedly. And though he still shuddered now and then from all the weeping, the little boy seemed contented too.

  “Thank you, Grace,” Papa said. He turned to the children. “I must go to the hospital now.”

  “Can’t we go with you?” pleaded Gertie.

  Papa shook his head. “They don’t allow children under sixteen, so only Ella could come. But Ella, you must stay with the children.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “The operation may take a long time. So don’t get frightened if you see it’s getting late and I’m not back. So far you’ve been fine, brave children. And that’s the way Mama and I want you should go on being. Of course an appendix operation is serious. But we got the doctor in time.”

  “Call me the minute you have news,” suggested Mrs. Healy.

  “You’re sure you won’t mind?”

  “Of course not. What’s my telephone for?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Healy,” Papa said earnestly. “Thank you for everything. Well, I’d better go now.”

  They watched him walk away, his shoulders bowed, his steps heavy. Now there was no Papa either.

  Gertie clung to Charlotte. “But people die from operations! Do you think—”

  “Don’t say it.” Charlotte frowned. “Don’t even think such a thing!”

  Ella thought: It’s up to me now. I have to take Mama’s place. What would Mama do at such a time? “I know how we can take some of the worry away from Mama,” she said aloud.

  “How?”

  “By going right upstairs and straightening out the house and getting dinner. Who wants to come with me?”

  “Me! Me, too!” Everybody was eager to pitch in.

  Mrs. Healy beamed. “Good girls!” She turned to her daughter. “Grace, go along and give them a hand.”

  Upstairs, the girls set to work with a will. Ella and Grace made beds and swept. Charlotte and Gertie dusted. Sarah did the dishes, and Henny let Charlie help her mop up the kitchen and bathroom floors. “I’ve got to keep him out from under everybody’s feet,” she explained.

  As they went about their tasks, each one tried ha
rd not to show how miserable and anxious she felt. They tried to speak of other things, but they could not keep Mama out of their minds. After a while they just stopped trying.

  In Mama’s room, Ella and Grace were smoothing out the spread on the bed. Ella’s hands moved slower and slower. She began to speak, almost as if she were thinking aloud. “Mama’s never been away from us before. I guess that’s why we’re all so disturbed. Before, no matter what happened to any of us, there was always Mama to turn to. Mama’s so strong—like a mountain! No matter how hard we lean on her, we know she won’t topple. Now the mountain isn’t here.

  “The little ones—they have to lean on somebody. And with Papa away all day, it’ll be me. But what about me? Who will I lean on? I guess this is what growing up really means, Grace. Standing on your own two feet and being your own mountain.”

  Grace came around the bed to her reassuringly. “Maybe you don’t know it, but you’re quite a little rock yourself, even if you’re no bigger than a minute. Besides,” she went on, “you’re not all alone. There’s your Papa and your relatives. And then there’s my father and mother—all glad to help. And then don’t forget me! I’ve got a big shoulder you can cry on if you ever have to.”

  Ella smiled at her friend. “If only my Aunt Lena were here,” she said. “She’d be such a help. But Uncle Hyman has already rented a tiny place in the Catskills for the summer. You see, my aunt’s going to have a baby.”

  She sighed. “Nothing ever works out the way you plan. I was supposed to start work today in my Uncle Joe’s place. Twelve dollars a week! I could have earned enough this summer to carry me through the whole year. I hate to have to keep asking Papa for money.”

  She gave herself a little shake. “I’m setting a fine example, standing around gabbing instead of working. Nobody ate much for lunch today. I think I ought to try to get the kids to eat something.”

  Soon a big pot of cocoa was steaming on the range. Ella coaxed the youngsters to the table, and everyone sat around sipping the hot drink and nibbling on soda crackers. All the while, eyes kept straying to the clock on the kitchen shelf, ears kept listening for Mrs. Healy’s call. Gertie voiced aloud what they were all thinking. “It’s such a long, long time. Why doesn’t Papa call?”

  “Watching the clock only makes it seem longer,” Ella said quietly. “Look, why don’t you all go downstairs till suppertime? It’s so nice out. You can stay near the house, and I’ll let you know the minute Mrs. Healy calls. Go ahead,” she urged, “I’ll wash the dishes myself.”

  “Well, I guess it’s about time I went down,” Grace decided. She squeezed Ella’s hand. “See you later, Ella. And don’t worry,” she whispered.

  Ella washed the dishes, cleaned the sink, and wrung out the dishcloth and hung it up to dry. The house was unbearably quiet. Slowly the clock kept ticking away. How much longer would they have to wait? Could something have gone wrong? Her heart began to pound with a dreadful fear. Oh, Papa, please, please call, she prayed silently.

  Maybe she should call the hospital. Mrs. Healy would let her use the phone. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She opened the door and hurried down the stairs.

  As she reached the first floor, she halted abruptly. Gertie, Charlotte, and Sarah were sitting in a forlorn group on the bottom steps. “What are you doing here?” Ella demanded.

  “We can hear the phone from here,” replied Charlotte.

  “It rang twice already,” Gertie added tearfully. “But each time—it was somebody else.”

  Ella couldn’t find it in her heart to scold. She just sat down and waited with them.

  The telephone rang again. The children sprang to their feet. Let it be Papa this time, Ella wished fervently. They waited, straining their ears to catch the conversation. The minutes seemed like years. At last the door opened, and Mrs. Healy and Grace were beckoning them in. “Everything’s all right,” Mrs. Healy cried joyfully. “Your Mama’s fine. Come on! Your Papa’s still on the phone. He wants to speak to you.”

  “Get Henny, quick!” Ella yelled to Sarah, as she rushed to the phone.

  “Never mind, Sarah. I’ll get her,” Grace offered.

  In another moment, Grace was back, with Henny and Charlie in tow. Breathless with excitement, they dashed into the Healy parlor.

  Clustered around the Healy phone, the children piled excitedly on top of one another, each trying to shout into the telephone at the same time. To Papa, it must have sounded like a lot of jibber-jabber. But they could hear his laughter flowing back over the wire. The children’s answering laughter exploded like popcorn in all directions. Mama was safe!

  Sabbath Without Mama

  The warm sun shone on Sarah’s face, and she opened her eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad it’s today instead of yesterday,” she said, stretching contentedly.

  Ella smiled. “Yes, it’s a wonderful feeling to know that Mama will be all right.” She jumped out of bed and ran through the rooms. “Wake up, everybody! Let’s get breakfast!”

  Breakfast over, Ella rapped on the table with her spoon. “Listen, everybody,” she declared. “I think we ought to have a schedule.”

  “That’s a swell idea,” agreed Sarah.

  “What’s a schedule?” Gertie asked.

  “It’s a list of things you plan to do. It’ll show all the jobs and who does what and when. You’ll see when we draw it up.”

  Dishes were stacked in the sink and beds went unmade while the girls struggled over the schedule. Even Charlie got into the spirit of it. Lying on his tummy on the floor, he imitated his sisters, scribble-scrabbling all over a big sheet of paper.

  “Let’s tackle the big jobs first,” Ella began. “Now, let’s see. Mondays we’ll wash.”

  “Who’s we?” inquired Henny.

  “We means all of us.” Ella was emphatic. “Of course,” she went on, “big things like sheets and tablecloths go to the wet wash laundry. They’ll still have to be dried and ironed at home, but at least we won’t have the job of washing them.”

  So they went on straight through the week, marking down the days for things like ironing, polishing furniture, window cleaning, marketing, and so on. When it was finally finished, Henny took one look at the crowded list and let out a howl. “You’ve got enough things there to keep us working twenty-four hours a day! When do we rest?”

  Ella pointed to Saturday. “There! The Sabbath! That’s the day of rest, remember?”

  Henny grinned. “Thank goodness for that!”

  “I know it seems like an awful lot to do,” Ella went on, “but you know what Mama always says—do your work with good will, and it’ll get done twice as fast. You’ll see, there’ll be lots of time left. Mama manages, and she’s only one.”

  “Besides, Henny, think of all the practice you’ll be getting,” Sarah added. “When you get married, you’ll know how to do everything.”

  “Who needs practice!” scoffed Henny. “I’m going to marry a millionaire and have a different servant for every job.”

  “Oh, sure,” Ella commented dryly. She chewed on her pencil. “Somebody will have to spend a good deal of time with Charlie. He needs a lot of care—bathing him, staying with him outdoors, putting him to bed.”

  “I’ll do it,” volunteered Henny.

  “Oh, that’s swell, Henny,” Ella replied gratefully. “You’re good with him. Better than any of us.”

  Ella tacked the schedule up on the kitchen door. “That’s settled. Now, let’s get to work.”

  For the next few days things ran very smoothly. The schedule seemed to be working out just fine. Papa asked Ella to make him a copy. “I want to show it to Mama,” he said proudly. As for Mrs. Healy, when she first saw it, she laughed heartily. “I ought to have you make one up for me. Maybe then Grace would take more interest in my housework.”

  “But, Mrs. Healy,” Charlotte exclaimed, “she’s always coming up here to help us!”

  Grace looked at her mother and laughed. “Well, it’s so jolly up here. With everybody pitchi
ng in, it just doesn’t seem like work.”

  On Friday morning, when Mrs. Healy and Grace looked in on the family, they found the kitchen as busy as an anthill. “This will be our first Friday night without Mama,” Ella explained. “We want to have everything as nice as when Mama is home. Only there are a million things to do! We’ll never get done!”

  “Perhaps I can help,” Mrs. Healy said. “Sarah, what are you fighting with in the chopping bowl?”

  “We’re making gefüllte fish.”

  “Well, I can’t help you out with that,” Mrs. Healy said. “I never even tasted it, let alone made it.”

  “I’ve never made it either,” confessed Ella. “But it belongs on Friday night. I have the recipe, of course, but I only hope it turns out all right. If it does, we’ll bring you some.”

  Gertie and Charlotte were sitting on the floor beneath the open window, busily polishing the brassware. Spread out before them on a large sheet of newspaper were all the assorted pieces which added such lustre to Mama’s kitchen. “You two seem to be getting along all right,” Mrs. Healy said, “but why on the floor?”

  “The polish smells awful, so Ella said we have to keep away from the food,” replied Charlotte.

  “I’ve only asked them a dozen times to go out into the hall or into the dining room, but they won’t,” Ella added. “Afraid they’ll miss something.”

  “Where’s Charlie?” Mrs. Healy asked Henny, who was busy shelling peas.

  A curly blond head peeked out from under the table. “Here I am. I’m hiding. An’ the kitty’s hiding too.”

  The head disappeared. Immediately assorted meows and scuffling erupted from under the table cover. Henny ducked under the table. A moment later she came crawling out, the kitten in her arms, with a protesting Charlie scrambling after.

  Henny stroked the kitten. “Poor little thing.” She turned to Charlie. “How would you like it if I pulled your tail?” she scolded.