Where's Nora? Page #6

"Where's Nora?" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming children's story that captures the whimsical adventures of a young girl named Nora. Set in a quaint village, the narrative unfolds as Nora disappears, prompting her friends and family to search for her. Through vivid illustrations and engaging text, the book explores themes of curiosity, friendship, and the importance of community, all while inviting readers to join in the delightful quest to find Nora. Jewett's storytelling shines with warmth and simplicity, making it a delightful read for young audiences.

• Short story

								

and enjoyed himself well.

"'I had no such breakfast in tin years, me dear,' said he at the last,
very quiet and thankful; and he l'aned back in the chair to rest him,
and I cleared away, being in the great hurry, and he asking me how I
come there, and I tolt him, and how long I 'd been out, and I said it
was two months and a piece, and she being always in me heart, I spoke
of me mother, and all me great hopes.

"Then he sat and thought as if his mind wint to his own business, and I
wint on wit' me baking.  Says he to me after a while, 'We 're going to
build a branch road across country to connect with the great
mountain-roads,' says he; 'the junction 's going to be right here; 't
will give you a big market for your buns.  There 'll be a lunch-counter
in the new station; do you think you could run it?' says he, spaking
very sober.

"'I 'd do my best, sir, annyway,' says I.  'I 'd look out for the best
of help.  Do you know Patrick Quin, sir, that was hurt on the Road and
gets a pinsion, sir?'

"'I do,' says he.  'One of the best men that ever worked for this
company,' says he.

"'He 's me mother's own brother, then, an' he 'll stand by me,' says I;
and he asked me me name and wrote it down in a book he got out of the
pocket of him.  'You shall have the place if you want it,' says he; 'I
won't forget,' and off he wint as quiet as he came."

"Tell me who was it?" said Johnny O'Callahan, listening eagerly.

"Mr. Ryan come tumbling in the next minute, spattered with water from
the tank.  'Well, then,' says he, 'is your fine company gone?'

"'He is,' says I.  'I don't know is it some superintendent?  He 's a
nice man, Mr. Ryan, whoiver he is,' says I.

"''T is the Gineral Manager of the Road,' says he; 'that's who he is,
sure!'

"My apron was all flour, and I was in a great rage wit' so much to do,
but I did the best I could for him.  I 'd do the same for anny one so
hungry," concluded Nora modestly.

"Ain't you got the Queen's luck!" exclaimed Johnny admiringly.  "Your
fortune 's made, me dear.  I 'll have to come off the road to help you."

"Oh, two good trades 'll be better than one!" answered Nora gayly, "and
the big station nor the branch road are n't building yet."

"What a fine little head you 've got," said Johnny, as they reached the
house where the Ryans lived, and the train was whistling that he meant
to take back to town.  "Good-night, annyway, Nora; nobody 'd know from
the size of your head there could be so much inside in it!"

"I'm lucky, too," announced Nora serenely.  "No, I won't give you me
word till the ind of the month.  You may be seeing another gerrl before
that, and calling me the red-headed sparrow.  No, I 'll wait a good
while, and see if the two of us can't do better.  Come, run away,
Johnny.  I 'll drop asleep in the road; I 'm up since four o'clock
making me cakes for plinty b'ys like you."

The Ryans were all abed and asleep, but there was a lamp burning in the
kitchen.  Nora blew it out as she stole into her hot little room.  She
had waited, talking eagerly with Johnny, until they saw the headlight
of the express like a star, far down the long line of double track.

IV.

The summer was not ended before all the railroad men knew about Johnny
O'Callahan's wedding and all his good fortune.  They boarded at the
Ryans' at first, but late in the evenings Johnny and his wife were at
work, building as if they were birds.  First, there was a shed with a
broad counter for the cakes, and a table or two, and the boys did not
fail to notice that Nora had a good sisterly work-basket ready, and was
quick to see that a useful button was off or a stitch needed.  The next
fortnight saw a room added to this, where Nora had her own stove, and
cooking went on steadily.  Then there was another room with white
muslin curtains at the windows, and scarlet-runner beans made haste to
twine themselves to a line of strings for shade.  Johnny would unload a
few feet of clean pine boards from the freight train, and within a day
or two they seemed to be turned into a wing of the small castle by some
easy magic.  The boys used to lay wagers and keep watch, and there was
a cheer out of the engine-cab and all along the platforms one day when
a tidy sty first appeared and a neat pig poked his nose through the
fence of it.  The buns and biscuits grew famous; customers sent for
them from the towns up and down the long railroad line, and the story
of thrifty, kind-hearted little Nora and her steady young husband was
known to a surprising number of persons.  When the branch road was
begun, Nora and Johnny took a few of their particular friends to board,
and business was further increased.  On Sunday they always went into
town to mass and visited their uncles and aunts and Johnny's sister.
Nora never said that she was tired, and almost never was cross.  She
counted her money every Saturday night, and took it to Uncle Patsy to
put into the bank.  She had long talks about her mother with Uncle
Patsy, and he always wrote home for her when she had no time.  Many a
pound went across the sea in the letters, and so another summer came;
and one morning when Johnny's train stopped, Nora stood at the door of
the little house and held a baby in her arms for all the boys to see.
She was white as a ghost and as happy as a queen.  "I 'll be making the
buns again pretty soon," she cried cheerfully.  "Have courage, boys; 't
won't be long first; this one 'll be selling them for me on the Flying
Aigle, don't you forget it!"  And there was a great ringing of the
engine-bell a moment after, when the train started.

V.

It was many and many a long month after this that an old man and a
young woman and a baby were journeying in a side-car along one of the
smooth Irish roads into County Kerry.  They had left the railroad an
hour before; they had landed early that morning at the Cove of Cork.
The side-car was laden deep with bundles and boxes, but the old horse
trotted briskly along until the gossoon who was driving turned into a
cart-track that led through a furzy piece of wild pasture-ground up
toward the dark rain-clouded hills.

"See, over there's Kinmare!" said the old man, looking back.  "Manny 's
the day I 've trudged it and home again.  Oh, I know all this country;
I knew it well whin ayther of you wa'n't born!"

"God be thanked, you did, sir!" responded the gossoon, with fervent
admiration.  He was a pleasant-looking lad in a ragged old coat and an
absolutely roofless hat, through which his bright hair waved in the
summer wind.  "Och, but the folks 'll be looking out of all the doors
to see you come.  I 'll be afther saying I never drove anny party with
so rich a heart; there ain't a poor soul that asked a pinny of us since
we left Bantry but she's got the shillin'.  Look a' the flock coming
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