“When will it get here?” Carrie asked breathless.
“Any minute. Nobody knows when,” Laura answered, and she ran downstairs singing:
“If you’re waking call me early,
Call me early, mother dear.”
Pa was at the table. He looked up and laughed at her. “Well, Flutterbudget! you’re to be Queen of the May, are you? And late to breakfast!”
“Ma didn’t call me,” Laura made excuse. “I didn’t need help to cook this little bit of breakfast,” Ma said. “Only one biscuit apiece, and small ones at that. It took the last bit of the wheat to make them.”
“I don’t want even one,” Laura said. “The rest of you can divide mine. I won’t be hungry till the train comes in.”
“You will eat your share,” Pa told her. “Then we’ll all wait till the train brings more.”
They were all merry over the biscuits. Ma said that Pa must have the biggest one. When Pa agreed to that, he insisted that Ma take the next size. Mary’s of course came next. Then there was some doubt about Laura and Carrie; they had to have the two most nearly alike. And the smallest one was for Grace.
“I thought I made them all the same size,” Ma protested.
“Trust a Scotchwoman to manage,” Pa teased her. “You not only make the wheat come out even with the very last meal before the train comes, but you make the biscuits in sizes to fit the six of us.”
“It is a wonder, how evenly it comes out,” Ma admitted.
“You are the wonder, Caroline,” Pa smiled at her. He got up and put on his hat. “I feel good!” he declared. “We really got winter licked now! with the last of the blizzards thrown out of the cuts and the train coming in!”
Ma left the doors open that morning to let in the spring air, moist from the sloughs. The house was fresh and fragrant, the sun was shining, and the town astir with men going toward the depot. Clear and long across the prairie, the train whistle sounded and Laura and Carrie ran to the kitchen window. Ma and Grace came, too.
They saw the smoke from the smokestack rolling up black against the sky. Then puffing and chuffing the engine came hauling the line of freight cars toward the depot. A little crowd of men on the depot platform stood watching the engine go by. White steam puffed up through its smoke and its clear whistle came after every puff. Brakemen along the top of the train were jumping from car to car and setting the brakes.
The train stopped. It was really there, a train at last.
“Oh, I do hope that Harthorn and Wilmarth both get all the groceries they ordered last fall,” said Ma.
After a few moments the engine whistled, the brakemen ran along the tops of the cars loosening the brakes. Clanging its bell, the engine went ahead, then backed, then went ahead again and rushed on away to the west, trailing its smoke and its last long whistle. It left behind it three freight cars standing on the sidetrack.
Ma drew a deep breath. “It will be so good to have enough of everything to cook with again.”
“I hope I never see another bite of brown bread,” Laura declared.
“When is Pa coming? I want Pa to come!” Grace insisted. “I want Pa to come now!”
“Grace,” Ma reproved her, gently but firmly, and Mary took Grace into her lap while Ma added, “Come, girls, we must finish airing the bedding.”
It was almost an hour before Pa came. At last even Ma wondered aloud what could be keeping him. They were all impatiently waiting before he came. His arms were filled with a large package and two smaller ones. He laid them on the table before he spoke.
“We forgot the train that was snowed in all winter,” he said. “It came through, and what do you suppose it left for De Smet?” He answered his own question. “One carload of telegraph poles, one carload of farm machinery, and one emigrant car.”
“No groceries?” Ma almost wailed.
“No. Nothing,” Pa said.
“Then what is this?” Ma touched the large package.
“That is potatoes. The small one is flour and the smallest is fat salt pork. Woodworth broke into the emigrant car and shared out what eatables he could find,” said Pa.
“Charles! H
e ought not to do that,” Ma said in dismay.