Aunt Tabby’s House

CHAPTER 2 (after Aunt Tabby’sunexpected arrival) “It’s the ice cream cart!” Jeremy dashed toward the door. “Hold it!” Dad ordered. “Mind your manners. You ran in front of Aunt Tabby.” “Sorry,” Jeremy apologized, “but I have fifty cents.” He dashed out and let the door slam. The slam startled Annie Lou. She covered her ears and hid her face against Aunt Tabby. Katrina stopped inside the door. She had spent all her allowance, but Aunt Tabby was company. If Aunt Tabby wanted ice cream, Daddy would buy it for her, and if everyone else had ice cream, maybe he couldn’t leave Katrina without. “Excuse me, Aunt Tabby,” Katrina asked. “Would you like ice cream?” Aunt Tabby gently moved Annie Lou to the sofa and stood up. “I haven’t bought ice cream from a musical wagon since your father was a teenager,” she said. “I’m treating all of you.” “The kids do have their allowance,” Dad commented. “Just this once.” Aunt Tabby started for the door. She stopped to pick up what looked like a small patchwork quilt, but the patches were pockets on a jacket. Aunt Tabby unzipped one of the patch pockets and took out a few dollar bills. Jeremy and Katrina waved at the three-wheeled ice cream cart while its music box played the first bars of “Take me out to the ball game” for the several-hundredth time that day. “I know what you want,” the driver said to Jeremy. “Here’s your grape Popsicle, same as always. How about the rest of you?” Aunt Tabby and Dad chose Eskimo Pies for themselves and Mom, and a raspberry Popsicle for Annie Lou. Katrina skipped to the other side of the truck and back, trying to decide. “Eskimo pie—no, a lemon Popsicle—no, I’ll take a Fudgsicle.” Dad carried his, Mom’s, and Annie Lou’s treats into the house. “Suppose we eat ours out here in the shade,” Aunt Tabby suggested. She sat on a grassy patch under the cottonwood tree. Jeremy flopped on his stomach and elbows beside Aunt Tabby while Katrina twirled around on her toes and spun ballerina-style to the grass. “Do you always choose grape Popsicles?” Aunt Tabby asked Jeremy. “Almost always. I like raspberry too. Popsicles are colder than ice cream.” “No, they aren’t,” Katrina argued. “They’re all frozen.” “They taste colder, and I like grape.” “I think...” Aunt Tabby paused. “That’s it! Just right for you—refreshing humor, a sparkle in your eyes and smile—Jeremy, you are Popsicle. And you,” she turned to Katrina, “You are Twinkletoes. Listen:" When the sun Shines through the leaves of the apple-tree, When the sun Makes shadows of the leaves of the apple-tree, Then I pass On the grass From one leaf to another, From one leaf to its brother Tip-toe, tip-toe! Here I go! That’s ‘Twinkletoes.’ That’s you.” “Like a secret code, Aunt Tabby?” Popsicle asked. “You mean secret names for us?” Twinkletoes added. “No, not secret, special," Aunt Tabby explained. "Not all secrets are good. In fact, I'll tell your dad right away. If he objects, we’ll forget about the names.” “Dad won’t care. He’ll think it’s funny.” “I’d better ask since I’m responsible. Give me a hand up, Popsicle. At my age, it’s a long way up from the ground even if up does stop before five feet.” Popsicle didn’t see why Aunt Tabby needed to ask Dad about the names. She’d been a grownup and a schoolteacher before Dad was even born. Grandpa had joked about how she was his “big sister” but he pointed at her so everyone would see that her head didn’t reach his shoulder. Jeremy and Katrina followed her to the garage, where they found Dad wrapping tools in newspaper, packing for their move from Texas to Idaho. Aunt Tabby apologized as if she had done something wrong. “Richard, I’ve done it. I gave Jeremy and Katrina special names. If you object, I won’t…” “Object?” Dad held a wrench in one hand, a page of newspaper in the other. He seemed to be studying the newspaper as if it would tell him how to answer. He didn’t look at Aunt Tabby. He sounded grumpy. “I guess not. But what’s next? Timbuktu?” “I didn’t mean to upset you, Richard.” “You kids see if Mom needs help with dinner.” That was an order, not a suggestion. It wasn’t anywhere near dinner time, either. Popsicle started into the kitchen. Twinkletoes stopped at the kitchen door and turned back to listen. Dad frowned at Aunt Tabby. “I’m not upset.” He took a deep breath and added, “But some things are over and done with. Be careful what stories you tell.”