Read All About It. Valerie Tripp

      “Oh,” said Ruthie softly. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry.” The girls sat together in silence for a minute. That was a good thing about Ruthie. She’d sit and think with Kit. She didn’t need to talk all the time. “What are you going to do?” Ruthie asked at last.

      Kit handed Ruthie her list. “These are ways I can help save money,” she said.

      Ruthie read the list. “These are good,” she said. “These’ll help.” But her voice sounded doubtful.

      Kit sighed. “The truth is, I’ve just never given money much thought before,” she said.

      “I know,” said Ruthie. “Me neither.”

      Kit understood that when Dad sold a car, people gave him money. Dad gave some of the money to Mother. She used it to buy food and clothes and to pay the electric bill and the iceman and to get things for the house. Once a month, Dad paid the bank twenty dollars, which, as Charlie had explained, was part of the money that Dad and Mother owed the bank because they’d borrowed it when they bought the house. If there was any money left over after everything was paid, Dad put it in his savings account at the bank.

      “Without Dad’s job,” said Kit to Ruthie, “there won’t be any more money coming in. And Charlie said that Dad used up most of his savings to pay his salesmen as long as he could, so soon there won’t be any money left in his savings. What’ll we do then?”

      “I’ve read lots of books about people who have no money,” said Ruthie.

      “Me, too,” said Kit. “But most of them lived in the olden days on farms or in a forest where they could at least get nuts and berries. We live in modern times in Cincinnati. How will we get food when our money is gone? Will we move to a farm?”

      “I don’t think your mother would like that,” said Ruthie.

      “No,” sighed Kit. “Besides, none of us knows anything about farming.”

      Ruthie scratched her knee. “I think,” she said slowly, “we’re going to have to hope that your dad gets another job.”

      “Yup,” said Kit. “Maybe today.” She looked at Ruthie. “What a great headline that would be!”

      Mother’s Brainstorm

       CHAPTER 4

      ut Dad didn’t get a job that day, or the day after that, or the day after that, though he certainly seemed to be trying. Every day he put on a good suit and rode the streetcar downtown. Every day he said he was going to have lunch with a friend or a business acquaintance. Every day, Kit hoped he’d come home with the good news of a new job. But every afternoon, Dad came home tired and discouraged. All the bad news in the newspapers seemed to be about Kit’s own life now.

      One afternoon after a week had passed, Kit and Mother were on the back porch shelling peas when a huge black car pulled up in the driveway.

      “Oh, no,” sighed Mother.

      Kit asked, “Is it Uncle Hendrick?”

      Mother nodded. She took off her apron and handed it and the peas to Kit. “Quick,” she said. “Take these into the kitchen. And Kit, dear, while you’re in there, pour us some iced tea and bring it to the terrace.” Mother smoothed her hair, adjusted her smile, and walked gracefully toward the car.

      Kit was glad to escape inside. Uncle Hendrick was her mother’s uncle and the oldest relative Mother had left. He was tall and gray, and he lived in a tall, gray house near downtown Cincinnati. He always seemed to be in a bad mood, like Grandfather in the Heidi book before Heidi made him nice. The last thing Uncle Hendrick needs is lemon, Kit thought as she put a slice in his glass. He’s already a sourpuss.

      Kit put the iced tea on a tray and carried it to the terrace. Mother was sitting on a wicker chair, but Uncle Hendrick was pacing back and forth. When he saw Kit, he stopped.

      Here it comes, thought Kit.

      Without even saying hello, Uncle Hendrick barked at Kit, “What’s the capital of North Dakota?”

      “Bismarck,” answered Kit. She was used to such questions from Uncle Hendrick. If he wasn’t asking her about capitals, he was asking her multiplication facts. Worst of all were his word problems. “I have two bushels of Brussels sprouts I’m selling for five cents a peck,” he said now. “How much do you pay me?”

      Kit put the tray on the table to gain some time. She could never keep bushels and pecks straight. And who wants two bushels of Brussels sprouts anyway? she thought. “Um, fifty cents?” she guessed.

      “Wrong!” said Uncle Hendrick. “You may go.”

      Mother gave Kit a sympathetic look. But Kit felt sorrier for Mother than she did for herself. She went inside, but she stayed in the dining room where she could hear everything they said.

      “Margaret,” Uncle Hendrick sighed. “Didn’t I tell you and Jack what a mistake it was to sink all your money into that car dealership? If you two had listened to me, you would not be in the fix you are in now. And don’t expect me to help you. I won’t throw good money after bad.”

      “We’ll be all right, Uncle,” said Mother. “I’m sure Jack will find a job soon.”

      “Humph!” snorted Uncle Hendrick. “No, he will not. Not him. And not during these hard times.”

      Kit realized that her fists were clenched. Oooh! She wanted to run out onto the terrace and punch Uncle Hendrick. She hated it when he spoke about Dad that way. But Mother didn’t say anything.