Beverly Cleary_Ellen 01

by Ellen Tebbits

  Ellen found she could not keep her mind on her arithmetic. After a while she saw Otis slip his hand in his pocket and take out his jumping beans again. He put them on the seat beside him and watched them roll back and forth. Ellen couldn’t help watching.

  “Otis Spofford!” said Miss Joyce suddenly. “If I have to tell you once more to put those Mexican jumping beans back in your pocket, I shall have to take them away from you.”

  “Yes, Miss Joyce,” said Otis.

  Ellen was secretly pleased, but she wished Miss Joyce had said Otis would not get to tell about his beans. She didn’t know what she would do if Miss Joyce forgot all about her beet. Maybe she could remind her somehow.

  Then Miss Joyce dismissed the Away We Go readers, and they took their seats. She went to the section of the blackboard that was reserved for the class’s daily news. At the top was printed “Our News.” Under that Miss Joyce printed the date. Ellen watched her chalk move across the blackboard. “Today is Thursday,” she wrote. “It is raining.” Then she asked, “Has anyone any suggestions for news?”

  After glancing anxiously at Ellen, Austine waved her hand so frantically that Miss Joyce could not help seeing her. “You could put down that Ellen brought a beet,” said Austine.

  “That is a splendid suggestion.” Miss Joyce wrote, “Ellen brought a beet for our room.”

  Ellen and Austine exchanged a triumphant look. Again Ellen thought how lucky she was to have such a loyal girl for her best friend. Austine wouldn’t let Miss Joyce forget about the beet if she could help it.

  Otis waved his hand. “You could put that she sure got dirty bringing the beet.” Ellen and Austine gave him a disgusted look.

  Miss Joyce suggested, “Let’s say it in a different way.” She wrote, “Ellen worked very hard to bring the beet.”

  Ellen smiled modestly. She noticed that Austine was whispering to Amelia and wondered what they were saying.

  Miss Joyce said, “We have room for one more sentence. Has anyone any suggestions?”

  Amelia raised her hand and said, “You could say that Ellen is going to tell us about the beet when we study plants today.”

  Miss Joyce wrote the sentence on the blackboard while Amelia and Austine smiled at Ellen. So that was what they were whispering about! Ellen might have known her best friend would think of something like that.

  Now Ellen knew that at last she had pleased Miss Joyce. Hadn’t she written on the blackboard that Ellen had worked hard to bring the beet and that she was going to tell the class about it? Surely Miss Joyce would reward such a hard worker by choosing her to clap erasers.

  All through social studies and arithmetic and lunch period Ellen waited anxiously for afternoon recess. When the class went to the blackboard to do spelling, she wrote her words over and over as fast as she could, just so she could erase them and be sure that one eraser was good and dirty.

  Finally the time came. When Miss Joyce looked around the room, Ellen held her breath. She didn’t know what she would do if Miss Joyce didn’t choose her. “Let’s see,” said the teacher. “Who will take the erasers out to clean them during recess? Ellen, you may take half of them.”

  Ellen let out her breath in a sigh of relief. At last Miss Joyce had chosen her to clap erasers! Now she knew Miss Joyce liked her as much as she liked the other boys and girls.

  Then Miss Joyce said, “Otis, you may take the rest of the erasers.”

  Oh dear, thought Ellen in dismay, anybody but Otis. It was just her luck to have to clap erasers with Otis after waiting so long. She just knew Otis would do something to spoil everything. He always did. He was that kind of boy.

  “Yes, Miss Joyce,” said Otis, dropping three of his jumping beans on the floor. With a guilty look, he quickly leaned over to pick them up.

  “I am sorry, Otis,” said Miss Joyce. “You are not cooperating. You were supposed to keep your Mexican jumping beans in your pocket until our science period. Bring them to me and I will keep them in my desk until after school.”

  “Aw,” muttered Otis as he gathered up his beans and handed them to Miss Joyce.

  “And I think you had better stay in during recess,” said the teacher. “Austine, you may clap erasers instead of Otis.”

  Ellen beamed across the room at Austine. Not only was she going to clap erasers, she was going to clap them with her best friend! And if Miss Joyce kept Otis’s jumping beans until after school, he wouldn’t get to talk about them during science period after all.

  Joyfully Ellen gathered her half of the erasers from the chalk rail. On her way out of the room, she hesitated near Miss Joyce, who was standing in the doorway.

  “Thank you for choosing me,” she said shyly. “I’ve always wanted to clap erasers.”

  “You have?” Miss Joyce sounded surprised. “Why, if I had known that, I would have let you take them sooner. I haven’t asked you before because cleaning erasers is such dirty work and you always keep your dresses so clean.”

  Ellen hurried out of the building with Austine, and they clapped erasers furiously. As clouds of chalk dust blew out into the rain, Ellen coughed. “Austine, do you know what?” she asked happily between coughs. “Miss Joyce liked me all the time!”

  4

  Ellen Rides Again

  The arrival of spring meant different things to different people. To Mrs. Tebbits it meant spring cleaning. To Mrs. Allen it meant planting seeds and setting out new flowers. To Ellen and Austine spring meant something much more important. It meant no more winter underwear.

  The two girls were walking home from the library one warm spring afternoon. They felt light and carefree in their summer underwear. It was a wonderful feeling. It made them want to do something exciting.

  At the library Austine had been lucky enough to find two horse books. “I wish I could ride a horse sometime,” she said.

  “Haven’t you ever ridden a horse?” asked Ellen.

  “No. Have you?” Austine sounded impressed.

  “Oh, yes,” said Ellen casually. “Several times.”

  It was true. She had ridden several times. If she had ridden twice she would have said a couple of times. Three was several times, so she had told the truth.

  “Where? What was it like? Tell me about it,” begged Austine.

  “Oh, different places.” That was also true. She had ridden at the beach. Her father had rented a horse for an hour and had let Ellen ride behind him with her arms around his waist. The horse’s back had been slippery and she had bounced harder than was comfortable, but she had managed to hang on.

  And she had ridden at Uncle Fred’s farm. Uncle Fred had lifted her up onto the back of his old plow horse, Lady, and led her twice around the barnyard. Lady didn’t bounce her at all.

  And then there was that other time when her father had paid a dime so she could ride a pony around in a circle inside a fence. It hadn’t been very exciting. The pony seemed tired, but Ellen had pretended it was galloping madly. Yes, it all added up to several times.

  “Why haven’t you told me you could ride?” Austine demanded. “What kind of saddle do you use?” Austine knew all about different kinds of saddles, because she read so many horse books.

  “Oh, any kind,” said Ellen, who did not know one saddle from another. “Once I rode bareback.” That was true, because Lady had no saddle.

  “Golly,” said Austine. “Bareback!”

  Ellen was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had not meant to mislead Austine. She really did not know how it all started.

  “Oh, Ellen, you have all the luck,” exclaimed Austine. “Imagine being able to ride horseback. And even bareback, too.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” said Ellen, wishing Austine would forget the whole thing.

  But the next day at school Austine did not forget about Ellen’s horseback riding. She told Linda and Amelia about it. They told Barbara and George. Barbara and George told other boys and girls. Each time the story was told, it grew.

  Even Otis was impresse
d and he was a difficult boy to impress. When the girls started home after school, he was waiting on the edge of the school grounds. He had a piece of chalk and was busy changing a sign from “Bicycle riding forbidden at all times” to “Bicycle riding bidden at all times.” Otis crossed out “for” every time he had a chance, but the rain always washed away the chalk marks.

  “Hello, Ellen,” he said, walking along beside her in his cowboy boots. Since Christmas Otis had worn boots instead of Oxfords. He was not wearing spurs today. Miss Joyce had asked him not to wear them to school.

  Ellen and Austine ignored him.

  Otis kicked at the grass along the edge of the sidewalk. “Say, Ellen, is it true you ride a lot? Even bareback?”

  “Of course it’s true,” said Austine.

  “I wish people would stop talking about it,” said Ellen crossly. “What’s so wonderful about riding a horse, for goodness’ sake?”

  “Gee whiz,” said Otis enviously. “Some people have all the luck.”

  The girls continued to ignore him. He followed them for a while, kicking at the grass, and then turned down another street.

  When the girls came to Austine’s house, they found Mrs. Allen on her knees beside a flat box of pansy plants. She was taking them out of the box and setting them into a border along the driveway.

  “Hello there,” she said. “Since tomorrow is Memorial Day and there isn’t any school, how would you like to go on a picnic?”

  Ellen did not say anything. She thought Mrs. Allen meant her, too, but she was not sure. She hoped so. That was the trouble with the word you. Sometimes it meant one person and sometimes it meant a lot of people. Maybe Mrs. Allen was talking to Austine and not to both of them.

  Mrs. Allen said, “Ellen, I have already asked your mother and she says you may go.”

  “Thank you. I’d love to go.” Maybe a picnic would make Austine forget about horses. And if they went on a picnic, Austine couldn’t come to Ellen’s house to play and perhaps say something about horseback riding in front of Mrs. Tebbits. Ellen was worried about what her mother would say if she found out how Ellen had exaggerated.

  “Where are we going?” asked Austine.

  “We’re going to drive out toward Mount Hood. The rhododendrons are beginning to bloom, and I thought it would be nice to see them blooming in the woods.”

  The next morning at ten o’clock Ellen ran down Tillamook Street and around the corner to Austine’s house. For her share of the picnic she carried eight deviled eggs carefully packed in a cardboard box. Mr. Allen was backing out the car. Mrs. Allen sat in the front seat and Austine in the back.

  “Hop in,” said Mr. Allen. “Bruce isn’t going with us. The boy scouts are marching in a parade.”

  Ellen was glad she and Austine could each sit by a window. That made it easier to look for white horses and to play the alphabet game. The first one to see a white horse got to make a wish. Ellen was going to wish Austine would forget about her horseback riding.

  The girls always played the alphabet game when they rode in a car. Each watched the signs on her own side of the road for the letters of the alphabet. Each letter had to be found in order or it did not count. The k in a Sky Chief Gasoline sign could not be used unless a j had already been seen. The girl who had a Burma Shave sign on her side of the road at the right time was lucky because it contained in the right order both u and v, two hard letters to find. The game went quickly at first, because there were lots of signs, but as they neared the mountains the signs became more scarce.

  Ellen was looking for a Texaco filling station for an x when Austine shouted, “Look, a white horse! I’ve got dibs on it.” She shut her eyes to wish.

  Ellen was sorry she had not seen the horse first. She needed a wish. Finally both girls were down to z. By then the car was winding along the mountain roads.

  “Z!” shouted Ellen. “I win. There was a sign by that bridge that said ‘Zigzag River.’”

  “That’s all right,” said Austine generously. “I’m going to get my wish.”

  It was a few more miles along the highway that Austine saw the horses. “Look, Daddy! Horses for rent, fifty cents an hour! Please stop,” she begged.

  Mr. Allen drew over to the side of the road near some horses in a makeshift corral. Austine scrambled out of the car and ran to the horses, while the others followed.

  “Daddy, please let us go horseback riding. All my life I’ve wanted to ride a horse. Please, Daddy. You and Mother could go on and look at the rhododendrons and come back for us.”

  “Would it be safe for the girls to ride alone?” Mrs. Allen asked the man with the horses.

  “Please, Mother,” begged Austine. “Make my wish come true.”

  “Sure. Kids do it all the time,” answered the man. “They ride up that dirt road as far as the old sawmill and turn around and come back. The horses know the way. Takes about half an hour. Road runs right along the highway.”

  “They won’t be thrown from the horses?” asked Mrs. Allen.

  “From these horses?” said the man. “No, lady. These horses worked at a riding academy for years.”

  “You’re sure they’re gentle?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Gentle as kittens.”

  “The girls could hang on to the saddle horns,” suggested Mr. Allen.

  “Oh, Daddy, you aren’t supposed to hang on to the saddle horn. Only tenderfoots, I mean tenderfeet, do that. We’ll be safe, because Ellen has ridden a lot and I know all about riding from books.”

  Ellen wished Austine would keep still. She was not at all sure she wanted to ride, especially without a grownup along.

  “I suppose it would be safe to let the girls ride for half an hour,” said Mrs. Allen. “We could walk along the dirt road and look at the rhododendrons while they rode. That way they would be within shouting distance.”

  “All right, girls, which horses do you want to ride?” asked Mr. Allen, taking a handful of change out of his pocket.

  Ellen thought she had better act brave even if she didn’t feel that way. “The spotted horse is nice, but I think I’d rather have the brown one over in the corner of the pen.” She thought the brown horse looked gentle.

  “I’ll take the pinto on this side of the corral,” said Austine, glancing at Ellen.

  Oh dear, thought Ellen. I’ve said the wrong thing. I wish I’d read some horse books.

  Austine watched eagerly and Ellen watched uneasily while the man saddled and bridled the two horses. “Okay, kids,” he said.

  Ellen walked over to the brown horse and patted him gingerly. He seemed awfully big when she stood beside him. But he looked down at her with large gentle eyes, and Ellen felt braver.

  The man held out his hand, palm up.

  Oh, I wonder if he wants me to give him some money, thought Ellen. It must be that, but I’m sure Austine’s father paid him. Or maybe he wants to shake hands. A sort of farewell.

  “Come on, girlie. Step up,” said the man. “Don’t be scared. Brownie isn’t going to hurt you.”

  My goodness, thought Ellen. I guess he expects me to step in his hand. I suppose it’s all right. His hand is dirty anyway.

  She put her foot into his hand and he boosted her onto the horse. The ground seemed a long way below her. And Ellen had forgotten how wide a horse was. The man shortened her stirrups and then helped Austine onto the pinto. Ellen patted Brownie on the neck. She was anxious to have him like her. If only she had a lump of sugar in her pocket.

  “Look,” cried Austine. “I’m really on a horse.”

  Ellen knew she was expected to take the lead. “Giddap,” she said uncertainly. Brownie did not move.

  The man gave each horse a light slap on the rump. They walked out of the corral and ambled down the dirt road as if they were used to going that way. Austine’s mother and father followed on foot.

  Ellen carefully held one rein in each hand. As she looked at the ground so far below, she hoped Brownie wouldn’t decide to run.

 
“I’m going to call my horse Old Paint like in the song,” said Austine, who never missed the Montana Wranglers on the radio and knew all about cowboy songs. “I wish I’d worn my cowboy neckerchief.”

  “Yes,” said Ellen briefly. She didn’t feel like making conversation.

  When Austine’s horse moved in front, Ellen took hold of the saddle horn. It wasn’t so much that she was scared, she told herself. She just didn’t want to take unnecessary chances.

  “I wish we’d worn our pedal pushers,” said Austine. “It’s sort of hard to feel like a cowgirl in a dress.”

  “I wish we had, too.”

  Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. The horses seemed to know the way, and Ellen found the rocking motion and the squeak of the saddle rather pleasant. She was even able to look around at the trees and enjoy the woodsy smell.

  Then when they had gone around a bend in the road, Brownie decided it was time to go back to the corral. He turned around and started walking in the direction from which they had come.

  “Hey,” said Ellen anxiously. She pulled on the right rein, but Brownie kept on going. “Stop!” she ordered, more loudly this time.

  “What are you going that way for?” asked Austine, turning in her saddle.

  “Because the horse wants to,” said Ellen crossly.

  “Well, turn him around.”

  “I can’t,” said Ellen. “He won’t steer.”

  Austine turned Old Paint and drew up beside Ellen. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to hold both reins in one hand?” Austine was scornful.

  Ellen didn’t know. “I just held them this way to try to turn him,” she said. She took them in her left hand. They were so long she wound them around her hand.

  Austine leaned over and took hold of Brownie’s bridle with one hand. “Come on, Old Paint,” she said, and turned her horse forward again. Brownie followed.