Beverly Cleary_Ellen 01

by Ellen Tebbits

  “Thanks,” said Ellen. “My, you’re brave.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Austine modestly. “You don’t steer a horse,” she added gently. “You guide him.”

  “Oh…I forgot.” Ellen wondered how she would ever explain her ignorance to Austine. What would her best friend think when she found out how Ellen had misled her?

  The horses plodded on down the woodsy road. Through the trees the girls could see the highway and hear cars passing. Austine’s mother and father appeared around the bend, and Ellen began to feel brave again.

  “Let’s gallop,” suggested Austine.

  Ellen’s legs were beginning to ache. “How do you make them gallop?”

  “Dig your heels in,” said Austine.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to hurt the horse,” said Ellen.

  “You won’t hurt him, silly. Cowboys wear spurs, don’t they?”

  Ellen timidly prodded Brownie with her heels. Brownie ambled on.

  Austine dug in her heels. Old Paint began to trot. At first Austine bounced, but soon she rode smoothly. Then her horse began to gallop.

  When Old Paint galloped, Brownie began to trot. Ellen began to bounce. She hung on to the saddle horn as hard as she could. Still she bounced. Slap-slap-slap. Her bare legs began to hurt from rubbing against the leather of the saddle flap. Slap-slap-slap. Goodness, I sound awful, she thought. I hope Austine doesn’t hear me slapping this way.

  Austine’s horse, after galloping a few yards, slowed down to a walk. “Whoa, Old Paint,” cried Austine anyway, and pulled on the reins. Old Paint stopped and Austine panted a minute.

  “I did it, Ellen!” she called. “It was just a few steps, but I really, truly galloped. I hung on with my knees and galloped just like in the movies.”

  “Wh-wh-oa-oa!” Ellen’s voice was jarred out between bounces. Brownie trotted on. Slap-slap-slap.

  Austine began to laugh. “I can see trees between you and the saddle every time you go up. Oh, Ellen, you look so funny!”

  Slap-slap-slap. Ellen didn’t think she could stand much more bouncing. It was worse than being spanked.

  “Ellen Tebbits! I don’t think you know a thing about horseback riding.”

  “Wh-wh-oa-oa!” When Brownie reached Old Paint he stopped. After Ellen got her breath, she gasped, “I do, too. It’s just that the other horses I rode were tamer.”

  The horses walked on until the road curved down to the edge of a stream.

  “Oh, look. There’s a bridge,” exclaimed Ellen, looking up.

  “I guess the highway crosses to the other side of the stream,” said Austine. “I wonder if the poor horses are thirsty.”

  There was no doubt about Brownie’s wanting a drink. He left the road and picked his way down the rocky bank to the water.

  “Poor horsie, you were thirsty,” said Ellen, patting his neck.

  But Brownie did not stop at the edge of the stream. He waded out into it.

  “Whoa,” yelled Ellen, above the rush of the water. “Austine, help!”

  Brownie waded on.

  “Austine! What’ll I do? He’s going swimming!”

  “Here, Brownie! Here, Brownie!” called Austine from the bank. Her voice sounded faint across the surging water.

  When Brownie had picked his way around the boulders to the middle of the stream, he stopped and looked around.

  “Look, he’s in over his knees!” Ellen looked down at the swirling water. “Giddap, Brownie!”

  “Kick him in the ribs,” yelled Austine from across the stream.

  “I don’t want to hurt him,” called Ellen, but she did kick him gently. Brownie did not appear to notice.

  “Slap him on the behind with the ends of the reins,” directed Austine from the bank.

  Ellen slapped. Brownie turned his head and looked at her reproachfully.

  By this time some hikers had stopped on the bridge. Looking down at Ellen, they laughed and pointed. Ellen wished they would go away.

  Brownie lowered his head to drink. Because Ellen had the reins wound around her hand, she could not let go. As she was pulled forward, the saddle horn poked her in the stomach.

  “Oof,” she said. Hanging over the horse’s neck, she clung to his mane with one hand while she unwound her other hand.

  Brownie looked at her with water dripping from his chin. Ellen thought it was his chin. Maybe on a horse it was called something else.

  Austine broke a branch from a huckleberry bush that grew out of an old log at the edge of the stream. She waved it toward Brownie. “Here, horsie. Nice horsie.”

  Brownie glanced at her with mild interest.

  “Oh, go on, Brownie,” said Ellen in disgust. She kicked him hard this time. Brownie looked at her sadly and swished his tail.

  A couple of cars stopped on the bridge and the occupants looked down at Ellen and laughed. “Yippee!” yelled one of the hikers and everyone laughed. “Ride ’em, cowboy!”

  “Do something, Austine,” Ellen called across the water. “Our half hour must be nearly up.”

  “Maybe I could ride back and get the man who owns the horses,” Austine yelled back.

  “No, Austine. Don’t leave me here alone,” begged Ellen. “Maybe I could get off and wade. I don’t think the water would come up to my shoulders.”

  “The current’s too strong,” called Austine. “And anyway, we’re supposed to bring the horses back. You can’t go off and leave Brownie.”

  Austine was right. Ellen knew that she couldn’t leave Brownie. She might lose him, and the man would probably make her pay for him. At least, she thought he would. She had never heard of anyone losing a horse, so she wasn’t sure. “I can’t stay here forever,” she called.

  “Mother and Daddy should catch up with us in a minute,” Austine called. “They’ll know what to do.”

  That was just what was worrying Ellen. She didn’t want the Allens to see her in such a predicament. What would they think after Austine had told them she had ridden before? Maybe they had wandered off to look at rhododendrons and were lost in the woods by now.

  Still Brownie did not move. Ellen wondered what it would be like to try to sleep on a horse. Again she wished she had brought some lumps of sugar. She could have eaten them herself when she became hungry.

  One of the hikers climbed down the bank to the edge of the water. “Need some help, little girl?” he called.

  “Oh yes, please,” answered Ellen gratefully.

  Jumping from boulder to boulder, the man drew near her, but he could not get close enough to reach Brownie’s bridle. “Throw me the reins, little girl,” he directed.

  Ellen threw them as hard as she could. They fell into the water, but the man grabbed them as the current carried them toward him.

  “Come on, old fellow,” he said, pulling at the reins. Meekly Brownie began to pick his way around the boulders toward the bank.

  “Oh, thank you,” said Ellen, when they reached dry ground. “I guess I would have had to stay out there all day if you hadn’t come for me.”

  “That’s all right,” said the man. “The trouble is, you let the horse know you were afraid of him. Let the old nag know you’re boss and you won’t have any trouble.”

  “Thank you, I’ll try,” said Ellen, taking a firm grip on the reins. “Good-bye.”

  Just then Austine’s mother and father appeared around the bend in the road. “Enjoying your ride, girls?” asked Mr. Allen.

  “Oh yes,” said Austine. “We just stopped to give the horses a drink.”

  “It’s time to turn back now,” said Mrs. Allen.

  “All right, Mother,” said Austine.

  The girls headed their horses toward the corral. Ellen was so embarrassed she didn’t know quite what to say to Austine. What would Austine think of her after this? What would she tell the kids at school?

  Finally, when Austine’s mother and father were a safe distance behind, Ellen said in a low voice, “I guess I didn’t know quite as much about horseba
ck riding as I thought I did.”

  “Your horse was just hard to manage, that’s all,” said Austine generously.

  “Austine?” said Ellen timidly.

  “What?”

  “You won’t tell anybody, will you? You won’t tell that Otis Spofford what happened, will you?”

  Austine smiled at her. “Of course I won’t tell. We’re best friends, aren’t we? It’ll be a secret like the underwear. Giddap, Old Paint.”

  “Thank you, Austine,” said Ellen gratefully. “You’re a wonderful friend. And you know what? I’m going to look for some horse books the next time we go to the library.”

  The horses, knowing they were headed toward hay, showed more spirit. Ellen held the reins firmly. That Brownie was going to know who was boss. She began to enjoy herself. She pretended she was returning to a ranch after a hard day riding the range.

  “I didn’t know horses had such long hair,” she remarked.

  “It’s their winter coat,” explained Austine. “They’ll shed it this summer.”

  Ellen laughed. “Just like winter underwear,” she said.

  5

  The Twins

  One morning early in August Ellen roller-skated to Austine’s house. It was a beautiful day and, as Ellen skated through the shadows of the maple trees, she thought about her wonderful idea. It was the best idea she had thought of in a long, long time. She could hardly wait to tell Austine about it.

  Austine, who was already out on her skates, coasted toward Ellen. “Hi,” she said. “Come on, let’s practice skating backward.”

  “I can’t stay long today, Austine. Mother says I have to change my clothes after a while and go downtown with her to pick out patterns and materials, so she can start making me some new school clothes. I wish I didn’t have to go. I’d rather skate.”

  “I suppose Mother will take me down sometime before school starts and get me some boughten dresses,” said Austine.

  “Austine, you know what?” Ellen twirled her skate key around by its string. “I have the most wonderful idea!”

  “Oh, Ellen, tell me!”

  “Well,” said Ellen, “wouldn’t it be fun if we could have dresses alike? And go downtown together Wednesday, when I go to show the dentist the bands on my teeth, and pick out our very own material and pattern all by ourselves?”

  “Oh, Ellen,” squealed Austine. “That’s a wonderful idea!”

  “People might even think we were twins,” added Ellen.

  “Of course, we don’t look a bit alike,” said the practical Austine, “but they might think we’re the kind of twins who don’t look alike.” She thought a minute and said, “The trouble is, your mother makes your dresses and my mother buys mine.”

  “Doesn’t your mother ever sew?” asked Ellen. She couldn’t imagine a mother not knowing how to sew.

  “Well, sort of. She mends things and she lets my dresses down when they get too short. Maybe she could make a dress if I asked her to. Maybe it would be safer to ask your mother first,” suggested Austine. “If she says you can, then maybe Mother will let me.”

  This seemed like a good idea. If one mother said yes, the other usually did too. The girls were always careful to ask the right mother first. Now they skated back to Ellen’s house, clumped up the front steps on their skates, and called to Mrs. Tebbits through the screen door. Ellen explained what they wanted to do.

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Tebbits, putting down her dustcloth and coming to the door. “Are you sure you would wear the dresses after they were made?”

  “Oh yes, Mother. We want people to think we’re twins. They might think we were the kind that don’t look alike. Please, Mother, say we can.”

  Mrs. Tebbits smiled. “I suppose you’ll have to learn to choose your own clothes sometime. If Mrs. Allen says you may, it’s all right with me.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said both the girls. Then they clumped down the steps, skated back to Austine’s house, clumped up her front steps, and called through the screen door.

  Mrs. Allen laughed when she heard what they wanted. “Where do you girls get such ideas?”

  “Please, Mother,” begged Austine. “Ellen’s mother says we may.”

  “But, Austine,” protested her mother, “I always buy your dresses ready-made. You know what my sewing is like.”

  “We’d pick out a real easy pattern,” promised Austine. “Please, Mother, couldn’t you make me a dress just once?”

  Mrs. Allen smiled. “All right, dear. Since you want it so much, I’ll make you a dress.”

  On Wednesday, after the dentist had looked at the bands on Ellen’s teeth, the girls rode the escalators, which were more fun than elevators, to the fifth floor of a department store. Ellen led the way to the pattern department, where she had shopped with her mother many times. The girls knew they wanted a dress with a flared skirt, so it did not take them long to select a pattern.

  Choosing the material came next. The two mothers had agreed that the girls could buy anything they wanted as long as it did not cost more than seventy-nine cents a yard. There was so much to choose from: plain materials, plaids, polka dots, stripes; materials printed with leaves, flowers, kittens, ducks, airplanes—almost any design you could think of. The girls looked and looked.

  Ellen felt the materials between her thumb and forefinger the way she had seen her mother feel yard goods. She was not sure how it was supposed to feel, but she liked to pretend she knew a good piece of material when she felt it.

  “I don’t want stripes,” said Austine firmly. “Mother always chooses dresses for me with up-and-down stripes to make me look thinner.”

  Ellen giggled. “Mother thinks stripes running around make me look fatter. And I don’t want a dress printed with kittens. I have kittens on my pajamas.”

  “I’d like something with red in it,” said Austine. “Mother never buys me anything red.”

  “I like red, too,” agreed Ellen. “Here’s a piece with some red in it. Look, Austine, it’s printed with darling little red monkeys.”

  “And palm trees,” exclaimed Austine. “I like palm trees.”

  The girls admired the material. Red palm trees were printed on a white background. From each tree a small red monkey hung by its tail. Ellen and Austine thought it was the nicest material they had ever seen and just what they wanted for their dresses.

  For the next few weeks the girls talked of nothing but the first day of school, when they would dress alike. Austine even changed the part in her hair from the left side to the right side so she and Ellen would look more alike. They agreed that they would both wear white bobby socks. Since it would be their first day in the fourth grade, their mothers said they could wear their black slippers. After that they would have to wear their everyday Oxfords.

  Mrs. Tebbits cut out Ellen’s dress first. When it was ready to try on, Austine came over to watch. It fitted nicely, and Ellen twirled around in her flared skirt. Even though it was without a collar and sleeves and the skirt was not hemmed, the girls could see it was going to be a lovely dress.

  “I wish Mother would hurry up with mine,” said Austine.

  But Mrs. Allen did not sew as quickly as Mrs. Tebbits. She pinned and basted and stopped frequently to read the directions. She spent a lot of time ripping. Sometimes she stuffed the whole thing in a drawer and did not sew at all for several days. The girls became more and more anxious. Ellen asked about the dress so many times she felt it would not be polite to ask any more. Austine stopped mentioning it altogether.

  Then the evening before school started, Austine telephoned Ellen. “Guess what!” she said. “Mother is hemming my dress this very minute and it’ll be ready in time for tomorrow. I thought she wasn’t going to get it finished, but she worked all afternoon, and Bruce and I fixed dinner so she could sew. Don’t forget to wear your white socks.”

  The next morning Ellen dressed carefully and did not squirm while her mother brushed her hair and tied her sash in a nice fat bow. Sh
e twirled around to admire the fullness of her skirt and peered over her shoulder at her sash. She liked her new dress more than any dress she had ever owned. She could hardly wait to walk into her new fourth-grade room with Austine.

  She walked as quickly as she could to Austine’s house. She walked, because her sash might come untied if she ran. She tap-danced, hop, one-two-three, on Austine’s porch and waited for Austine to come out. She waited a long time. Hop, one-two-three, slap down, slap down.

  Finally Austine came out with a piece of toast in her hand. “Well, come on,” she said crossly.

  Ellen stared. Austine’s dress did not look the least bit like hers. The material was the same, but everything else was different. Austine’s skirt sagged at the bottom. The sleeves did not puff the way Ellen’s did and the collar did not quite meet under Austine’s chin. The buttons were sewed on over snaps instead of buttoning through real buttonholes. The waist was too tight and gapped between the buttons. Worst of all, there was no sash to tie in a nice fat bow.

  “But, Austine,” said Ellen in dismay, “there’s supposed to be a sash.”

  Austine finished the last bite of toast and licked her fingers. “Well, there isn’t going to be on mine. I’m bigger than you are, and Mother had to allow extra material on the sides of the dress. And then she made a mistake in cutting the sleeves, and when she got through there wasn’t any material left for a sash. Mother says I’m too plump to wear such a wide sash, anyway.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.” Ellen didn’t know what to say. She was terribly disappointed. She supposed she ought to offer to take off her sash, but it was such a lovely one. Besides, her mother had stitched it to her dress at the sides, so she would not lose it.

  “Well, I think you might take off your sash,” said Austine, pulling a basting thread out of her hem. “We’re supposed to look like twins, you know. It was all your idea in the first place.”

  “I can’t take it off. It’s sewed to my dress,” said Ellen, secretly glad she could not take off her sash.