Miracles on Maple Hill: Chapters 9–14

It was as if all its little bells had run away and forgotten their clappers.

Every time, too, there was apt to be pie afterwards. And with blueberries or huckleberries, there might be pie and then muffins for breakfast besides and maybe pudding for lunch.

Marly made her face go as long and solemn as she could.

But there was so much on the Maple Hill side, it was really ridiculous—like “Live cheaper in the country” and “The Chrises” and “Could live on government pension without Mother working.”

Everything possible was carved with designs, even the stanchions where the goats put their heads and the stalls in the little barn.

He had pheasants and grouse and the ducks down on the pond and fishes behind all his dams.

They tried to get close to him for a rubbing when he went into the barn and stretched and bleated for a little touch on the nose.

It was a strange procession that went along the road at sunset.

Joe and Marly carried the crate of chickens between them, trying not to jar them too much from one side to another.

Then there were ponies and lovely cows like the ones she had had so much trouble with (she walked close beside Daddy in that barn!) and the hugest geese and ducks and odd-looking chickens with crests on their heads and their heels.

Mother’s zinnias stood sad and brown and rustled like straw in the wind.

Mr. Chris came over on his sleigh with one of the extra horses hitched behind.

Mother sent for their old decorations, and it was fun to unpack them. Besides all the baubles and tinsel, there were special decorations to make.

Mother sent for their old decorations, and it was fun to unpack them. Besides all the baubles and tinsel, there were special decorations to make.

One simply went outside and picked sycamore balls and picked up pinecones of every size and then came in and gilded them and hung them on the tree with Christmas string.

Had a sudden army of cicadas arrived already?

Mr. Chris’s voice boomed out among the trees as he talked to Daddy and Mother. “After we start planting, there’s no time for sugaring. You plant oats early and you get oats; you plant ’em late and you get nothing but chaff.”

But woe to him who takes no care,
And lets his taste become his snare!

But woe to him who takes no care,
And lets his taste become his snare!

Mother began scraping mush from the bottom of the kettle, and the scraping sounded loud in the room.

Her arms were lame from the day before, but after a while she forgot to notice.

“This is Miss Annie Nelson,” she said. “She says she’s the county truant officer.”
Oh, my goodness! The truant officer!

“I came to see whether you were sick, you two,” Miss Annie said, looking them up and looking them down with her sharp eyes. “But you’re about the two healthiest-looking specimens I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Well, I talked to the principal, and I talked to the superintendent. They both said to talk to Joe’s teacher, so I did.”

Then there was a huge postscript, that said, “Marly, it looks like there’s been another miracle on Maple Hill.”