Nobody can climb a tree as fast as Lula Bell. Although her mother tells her to be ladylike, Lula Bell prefers fishing and climbing and scrapping in the dirt with the boys. When her day is done, she sits on the porch with her grandmother Hattie, and listens to her tell stories of the North. Up there, Mama Hattie says, everybody's rich. No one ever has to scrimp to buy nice dresses or spend all day fishing just to put dinner on the table. Life is good. And soon, Lula Bell is going to find out for herself.
When her mother moves the family north to find better work, Lula Bell expects the good times have finally arrived. But life is hard wherever they go, and the only thing Lula Bell can truly count on is her mother and beloved Mama Hattie.
Nobody can climb a tree as fast as Lula Bell. Although her mother tells her to be ladylike, Lula Bell prefers fishing and climbing and scrapping in the dirt with the boys. When her day is done, she sits on the porch with her grandmother Hattie, and listens to her tell stories of the North. Up there, Mama Hattie says, everybody's rich. No one ever has to scrimp to buy nice dresses or spend all day fishing just to put dinner on the table. Life is good. And soon, Lula Bell is going to find out for herself.
When her mother moves the family north to find better work, Lula Bell expects the good times have finally arrived. But life is hard wherever they go, and the only thing Lula Bell can truly count on is her mother and beloved Mama Hattie.
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Overview
Nobody can climb a tree as fast as Lula Bell. Although her mother tells her to be ladylike, Lula Bell prefers fishing and climbing and scrapping in the dirt with the boys. When her day is done, she sits on the porch with her grandmother Hattie, and listens to her tell stories of the North. Up there, Mama Hattie says, everybody's rich. No one ever has to scrimp to buy nice dresses or spend all day fishing just to put dinner on the table. Life is good. And soon, Lula Bell is going to find out for herself.
When her mother moves the family north to find better work, Lula Bell expects the good times have finally arrived. But life is hard wherever they go, and the only thing Lula Bell can truly count on is her mother and beloved Mama Hattie.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504022019 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media Teen & Tween |
| Publication date: | 10/13/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 187 |
| File size: | 7 MB |
| Age Range: | 8 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Strawberry Girl, won the Newbery Award in 1946. She also received a Newbery Honor in 1942 for Indian Captive, a fictionalized account of the life of Mary Jemison. Lenski died in 1974.
Read an Excerpt
Mama Hattie's Girl
By Lois Lenski
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1953 Lois LenskiAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2201-9
CHAPTER 1
Hibiscus Street
Lula Bell! Lula Bell!" called a woman's voice.
"Yas'm!" answered the girl faintly.
She was hanging, head downward, from the limb of a large chinaberry tree. The tree grew beside the door of a two-story building, which had a sign Andy's Chicken Shack on the front. An admiring crowd of children stood below. It was a soft spring day in early March.
"Look how she can skin the cat," said Ernestine Hobbs.
"Lula Bell! Lula Bell!" called the woman again.
"You're gonna ketch it!" warned James Henry Thorpe, an older boy. "Miss Hattie sounds mad. She'll tear you up."
"No, she won't," said the girl.
"Lula Bell's the best climber on Hibiscus Street," began Geneva Jackson, a small girl of ten.
"The chinaberry flowers is just bloomin' now," said Lula Bell. She pulled some off and threw them down. "When the berries git ripe in summertime, we'll string 'em and make us necklaces to wear."
"I'll make me a popgun and shoot birds with 'em — pop! pop, pop!" said James Henry.
"Lula Bell! Lula Bell!" The woman's voice was sharper now. The children looked across the street to the porch where she sat. "Git down outa that tree. You wanna fall and break your neck?"
"No ma'm!" answered Lula Bell. "I'm a-gittin' down."
She moved her hands and feet along the limb like a sure-footed monkey. She dropped her feet to a lower limb. Then in a moment she landed smartly on the ground. She hitched up the belt of her blue jeans, which held her dress bunched in just below the waist.
"Lula Bell, there's your mama a-comin' home from work," said little Clarence Hobbs, pointing.
Lula Bell flew up the street to meet her. "Hi, Imogene!" she called. The other children scattered.
The young woman coming down the street was slim and graceful. She wore a flowered blouse and a tight-fitting black skirt. She took short steps on her high-heeled shoes. She opened her arms and Lula Bell flew into them. Then she frowned.
"Girl, why you got those old patched pants on?" she asked.
"I didn't want to tear my dress," said Lula Bell.
"You climbin' trees again?" asked Imogene. "When are you gonna learn to be ladylike?"
"I can climb higher'n anybody on Hibiscus Street," bragged Lula Bell.
The girl ran on ahead and soon came back to the porch where her grandmother was sitting. Across the front and at one end was an array of potted plants. In the yard, a large oleander tree and a gardenia bush grew on the left side of the walk, and a plum tree in full bloom on the right. A green hibiscus hedge, dotted with red Turk's-cap flowers, fenced in the yard. Inside the house, a radio was blaring noisily.
"Go in and turn that thing off, Lula Bell," said Imogene. "It's so loud, it makes my head ache."
Lula Bell ran in and the noise stopped abruptly.
Imogene sank into a porch chair. "How you doin', Mama?" she asked.
"I ain't much — how you?" answered the woman who sat there.
"Tired — wore out," said Imogene. "What you been doin'?"
"Nothin'. I got nothin' to do all day long but set here on the porch and look."
Lula Bell's grandmother, known to the neighborhood as Miss Hattie, sat in a well-worn but comfortable rocking chair. She was large heavy woman, wearing a plaid cotton dress, bulging and overflowing her chair. Her face was full, her features strong, and her dark eyes penetrating. Her half-gray hair was platted in a neat braid like a crown across the top of her head. There was, in fact, a regal air about her. She sat like a queen, and she ruled her little world like a queen.
"Lonnie and Eddie home yet?" asked Imogene, inquiring after her two brothers aged fourteen and twelve.
"I ain't seen 'em," said Mama Hattie. "Musta hitchhiked out to the golf links. Both their bikes is broke." On her lap lay an open mail order catalogue. "I'm fixin' to order me a new dress — a flowered rayon with a flaring skirt."
"Why don't you buy the goods and make it yourself?" suggested Imogene. "Then you could get it to fit right. It would be cheaper too."
"I can't sew since my eyes got bad," said Mama Hattie. "Now if you loved your old mother, you could make it for me ..."
"No, thank you, ma'm," said Imogene. "After I sew all day long for Mrs. Netherton, and fuss and fuss to get everything just so, I'm too tired to sew at home at night."
"What did you sew today?" asked Miss Hattie. "Anything purty?"
"Evening gown for the banker's wife — jade satin with a silk lace overdrape," said Imogene. "We couldn't get it to hang just right — but it sure was pretty."
Lula Bell, at her grandmother's feet, turned the pages of the catalogue. She came to the girls' dresses.
"Buy me a new dress, Imogene," she begged, pointing. "Buy me this one."
Imogene got up from her chair and opened the screen door. "You wear out your old ones first," she said. "I'm not buyin' you any new dresses until you stop climbin' trees like a boy. I got too many bills to pay." She banged the screen door behind her.
"After working hard all day long, I gotta come home and cook supper, I suppose." Her voice from the room inside sounded irritable. "Some folk's ain't got nothin' to do but sit on the porch and look. Jest sit on the porch and look."
Lula Bell leaned on her grandmother's lap and looked up into her eyes. "You'll buy me a new dress, Mama Hattie, won't you?"
"I sure will, honey." The old woman put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Why, if it wasn't for me, this chile wouldn't have a stitch to her back. I buys her ten times the clothes her own mother do. Yes ma'm, honey, I's gonna order me a new flowered rayon dress with a big wide full skirt. And I'll order you the purtiest dress in the catalogue."
"Can I pick it out now?" Lula Bell turned the pages. "Will you send in the order tomorra?"
"Not jest now, honey," said Mama Hattie. "We'll pick 'em out now, and we'll order 'em soon's I git me some extry change. I'll go fishin' tomorra and ketch a big bunch o' fish and sell 'em. Then you can go to the post office and buy a postal order ..."
The new dresses were a pleasant dream. The woman's hand rested gently on the girl's shoulder. A loud clatter of pans and dishes came from inside the house.
"It's near-about time for my program, Lula Bell," said Mama Hattie. "Go in and turn the radio on. Them pots and pans is so noisy, it makes my head ache."
The next day when Lula Bell came home from school, she stopped at the corner and looked. Mama Hattie was not sitting on the porch. Her usual chair was empty.
"Come on, go to Miss Lena's store with me," begged Geneva Jackson. "I gotta buy my mama a loaf of bread."
"O. K.," said Lula Bell. "I'll git Mama Hattie a grape soda."
Arm in arm, the girls strolled down to the tiny grocery store in the middle of the block. Mrs. Lena Patton, tall, angular and stern-looking, sat in a rocking chair out on the sidewalk. This made it easier for her to keep an eye on both her store and her home, which stood side by side. She left her chair and came in the store.
Geneva bought her bread and paid for it. Lula Bell asked for grape soda, saying, "Put it on the book."
Miss Lena looked at her. "Miss Hattie send you for this?"
"Yas'm ..." began Lula Bell. Then she added, "No, ma'm, but she likes it and I think she wants some."
"You hand that grape soda right back here, girl." Miss Lena took it from her quickly. "Don't you come buyin' nothin' at this store unless you been sent to get it."
The girls ran out quickly.
"When I get rich," said Lula Bell, "I'll buy out Miss Lena's store and give all her grape soda to Mama Hattie to drink."
The girls came back to the Chicken Shack and sat down on the unroofed porch, which had a cement floor. A crowd of children soon gathered round, chattering noisily.
"I got an aunty up north," bragged Lula Bell. "She's rich and purty and wears fine clothes. Her husband's my Uncle Theodore Copeland. They had three children but they all died, so they're gonna adopt me. I'll be their very own child. Every Christmas and birthday, they'll give me beautiful presents ..."
"What are you gonna do with your own mother?" asked little Clarence Hobbs.
"Oh, phooey!" cried James Henry Thorpe. "She jest makin' that up."
"My mama's cousin Lee Roy and his wife live in Chicago," said Josephine Crane, a quiet eleven-year-old. "They got a big high three-story house and two radios and a television set."
"Everybody's rich up north," said Floradell Pearson. "My Aunt Dora stayed six months and made a heap o' money."
"I'm goin' up north when I git big," announced Geneva Jackson. "I'll study to be a nurse in a big hospital."
"I'm goin' up north to live with my Aunty Ruth and Uncle Theodore," repeated Lula Bell, "and be their little girl."
"I got lots o' money to go up north," said a little boy nicknamed Popsicle, digging in his pocket. "I got seven pennies and a nickel and a dime."
"I got a dime and a nickel and another dime and five pennies," said little Clarence Hobbs. "I'm goin' on the train when I goes up north."
All their lives, the children had heard stories about up north. Some member of every family had been there and brought back glorified reports. The difficulties were always made light of or forgotten. Only the nice things were remembered and magnified. Up north became a Heaven within reach on earth, especially in the minds of the children. They loved to talk and dream about it. Only now and then some child broke the balloon of fancy and stayed on solid earth.
"You can't go fishin' up there," said James Henry. "There ain't no bayous to fish in — only sidewalks and apartment houses. I'll stay here and fish in Gray Moss Bayou."
"My aunty's rich," said Lula Bell. "She can buy her fish."
"My Aunt Dora couldn't git a decent meal of fish up there," said Floradell. "She paid thirty-nine cents a pound at a fish-market for a fish that looked like grouper, but she couldn't eat it. When she come back down south, she was so hungry for red snapper, we had to go right out and ketch her a mess."
James Henry started climbing up the chinaberry tree. "Who's comin'? Bet nobody can go up as high as I can," he called out.
"I dare you, Lu-Bell!" cried Floradell. "Go up higher'n him."
Lula Bell still had her pink chambray dress on. She looked over home and saw that her grandmother was not on the porch. She knew it wasn't time yet for her mother to be back from work. She started up the tree.
Just then Lonnie and Eddie passed by. They were her uncles, but seemed like older brothers. They considered themselves too old to play with the younger children on the street.
"Git down outa that tree," shouted Lonnie, "or Mama'll tear you to pieces."
"You shut up!" retorted Lula Bell.
"O. K. then," laughed Lonnie. "Go ahead and break your neck."
"We'll come to your funeral," grinned Eddie.
"Bet you can't climb up to this tip-top limb where I am," dared James Henry.
Lula Bell couldn't stand it to let that smarty James Henry beat her. She kept on climbing. She caught her dress on a sharp stub. She heard it tear, but she kept on going up, higher and higher. She saw James Henry grinning down at her, mocking her. She'd show him. Then she heard it.
"Lula Bell! Lula Bell!" A woman's piercing scream reached her ears. It happened every single time. "Now you git right down outa that tree! How many times have I told you ..."
There was no use ever trying to do anything. She always got stopped in the middle of it. Lula Bell moved backwards and slid quickly to the ground. "Where's she at? I don't see nobody. Whatever I do, Mama Hattie always sees me. She's got eyes in the back of her head — that woman. Where's she at?"
No one was on the porch across the street, or at the door or windows.
"There!" Geneva pointed. "She been out fishin' with Aunty Velma Henshaw. "Let's go see what they got."
Two women were coming leisurely up the street from the bayou at the lower end. Aunty Velma was fully as large as Miss Hattie. They both wore large straw hats on their heads and carried long bamboo fishing poles. They walked slowly with an easy grace, each holding a string of fish in her hand.
"Where you-all been, Mama Hattie?" asked Lula Bell.
"Out in a boat," answered her grandmother. "We got sheepshead and red snapper. Ain't they purty? Miss Callie Crane, Josephine's mother, let us go up the river in her boat." She panted, out of breath. "Here, girl, help me git home. I'm so tired, my legs is about to drop off under me."
Aunty Velma said good-by and turned off round the corner, while Geneva ran on home.
"You feelin' bad, Mama Hattie?" asked Lula Bell.
"Let me grab holt of the porch post," said the old woman. "See if you can lift my foot up to the next step. It's so heavy, I can't budge it no more."
With the girl's help, the old woman made her way to her chair on the porch. She hung the string of fish on a nail on the nearest post.
"Goody! We're gonna have fish for supper," said Lula Bell, "and bread and butter and mashed potatoes."
Miss Hattie shook her head. "Not if I can sell 'em and git me a little change. Once I caught a redfish at the river and got a dollar and a quarter for it. Got a sheepshead that wide. I've sold as high as three dollars' worth in a day. If I go fishin' in the mornin', people know I been fishin' and they come to buy. I'll jest set right here and sell 'em all. My friends will help me out."
"Red snapper's good," said Lula Bell. "Gimme that big one and I'll go scrape the scales off. I'll cut it down the middle and and clean the insides out. Then when Imogene comes home, she can fry it quick."
"No, girl, I'm gonna sell 'em," said her grandmother. "I need a little change. It took me forever to catch 'em, we started out so late. Run in and turn the radio on, Lu-Bell. It's about time for When a Girl Marries. I can't miss my program."
Fishing was her greatest pleasure. The old woman kept on talking even after the loud radio voices began. "I like to go about four o'clock, when the tide is low. Tide moves, and when it gits ready to turn, that's the best time to ketch 'em."
"Them fish fresh?" A man crossed over the street to look.
"Jest pulled 'em out of the bayou," said Miss Hattie.
He paid her a quarter and took three small ones. She put the money in the pocket of her dress.
"Fiddler crabs is best for bait," Miss Hattie went on. "I don't like shrimp. Fish eat shrimp off the hook as fast as you can drop 'em in the water."
All at once Miss Lena Patton stood at the porch step.
"You sellin' fish, Miss Hattie?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Lena," said the old woman. "Gittin' me a little change. I'm always short when it comes time to pay my bills."
"I got a store in this block," said Miss Lena in an angry voice. "You ain't got no license to sell."
"See my purty plum tree out in bloom," said Miss Hattie. "Soon I'll have plums to sell too. They makes good jelly. People pays me ten cents a quart for 'em. Run in, Lu-Bell, and turn the radio up higher. That's my favorite program comin' on — at five o'clock: When a Girl Marries. Won't you set down and listen to it, Miss Lena?"
Lula Bell knew that Miss Lena objected to other people selling things from their front porch. She knew too that Mama Hattie refused to quarrel with her neighbors. There was always some way to keep from quarreling. The girl turned the radio up as loud as she could. The program came on full and strong, loud enough to be heard a block away.
Miss Lena rose from her chair and took an abrupt leave.
"Tell that chile to turn that thing down lower," she said, pausing on the step. "We ain't none of us deaf — yet. If you keep it that loud, Miss Hattie, it might could scare your hens and stop 'em from layin'."
When Lula Bell came outside, the Insurance man was there. He took his little book out of his pocket.
"How about some nice fresh fish, Mr. Robinson?" asked Miss Hattie.
"What kind you got?"
"Sheepshead, and one big ole red snapper left," said the woman. "Fifty cents for the lot."
"They're kinda small," said Mr. Robinson, but he handed out a half dollar.
"Thank you, sir," said Miss Hattie. "Now I can pay you." She emptied all the change out of her pocket and handed it to the man with the half dollar.
"Good," he said. "I'll mark you paid up."
He hurried down the street, stopping in at all the houses.
A woman came out in the next yard to hang clothes on the line. She began to sing:
"All God's chillun got shoes,
You got shoes, I got shoes,
All God's chillun got shoes.
When I get to Heaven,
I'm gonna put on my shoes,
And I'm gonna walk all over God's Heaven."
Her voice was loud and strong. It seemed to be trying to drown out the radio program.
Miss Hattie frowned in Miss Annie Sue's direction, but there was nothing she could do. Her neighbor kept on singing.
"Go water my plants, girl," said Mama Hattie.
Lula Bell filled a pail. She dipped water from a cup onto the potted geraniums, ferns, crotons and other plants.
"I never did like a sandy yard," said Mama Hattie. "It all gits tracked in the house. Some day I'm gonna git me a load of yellow sand and two or three loads of black muck, and plant me some grass."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Mama Hattie's Girl by Lois Lenski. Copyright © 1953 Lois Lenski. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword,I Hibiscus Street,
II The Plum Tree,
III Good Luck,
IV Bad Luck,
V Bolt of Lightning,
VI Change of Scene,
VII Not Wanted,
VIII First Prize,
IX Hibiscus Street Again,
X The Looking Glass,
XI Outside the Circle,
XII Tomorrow,