“All right then. I thought you might be lonely.”
The Peters were ready to leave and Mrs. Peters had prepared a list of instructions and left them on the telephone stand. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Peters,” said Jane confidently. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
Everything was just fine until the car started away, and then young Sammy threw back his head and began to cry. He ran to the garden gate and called after the disappearing car, “Mommy! Daddy! Come back! I want to go with you!” Jane put her arms around him and gave him her brightest smile.
“They’ll come back, Sam. Now, let’s play ball.” Sam’s face cleared just a little and the two of them tossed the ball around on the lawn. Janie wanted to quit after the first few minutes, but not Sammy. He was having a fine time and when Janie sank down on the grass, panting for breath, he urged her on. “No stop, Janie. More ball, more ball!”
“Enough ball” said the amateur nursemaid, drawing him down beside her. “Now, I’ll tell you a story. I’ll tell you a story about Pinocchio.” Sammy’s eyes sparkled. He clapped his hands and his short black curls danced as he settled down on Janie’s lap. “Three Bears,” he coaxed. “Three Bears, Little Red Riding Hood.” Janie’s mind leaped back nimbly to her not so far distant childhood.
“Once upon a time,” she started, and Sammy relaxed. She rambled on and on. The Three Bears wandered through the legendary forest and Sammy shook his head at the empty porridge bowls. Little Red Riding Hood escaped from the wicked wolf and Sammy rejoiced. This was easy. This was much less strenuous than a ball game. She told of the adventures of Little Black Sambo and Snow White. Sammy was like a lamb.
“More story, Janie,” he begged. “More Three Bears, Little Red Riding Hood.”
Janie laughed and patted his hand. “Now I’m going to tell you about Pinocchio. ‘Once upon a time there was a stick of wood.’” Sammy listened. He marveled at the stick that could talk. He laughed at the ridiculous nose. He laughed when Pinocchio ran away. When poor Pinocchio returned from his wanderings and sat down at the fire to dry his feet, he looked expectant. When she told how the wooden feet burned off he rolled on the grass in glee.
Janie was indignant. “Why Sammy, you heartless little wretch. It hurts to have your feet burned off. You mustn’t laugh at anything so sad.” Obligingly, Sammy’s face fell. “Poor Pinocchio,” he said, and the tears started down his fat cheeks. Janie hastened to soften his grief. “Geppeto will make him some new feet.” But Sammy was determined to mourn if mourning was called for. In vain Janie tried to change the subject. Sammy wept. He cried until his face was wet with tears and looking up Jane saw her brother Bill at the gate.
“Oh, Billy,” she exclaimed. “I never was so glad to see you. I can’t cheer this child up.”