Granny threw up her hands. “What else could a body do?”
“Time for the dancin’ to begin!” called Uncle Jamie. “Come on, boys, do that hoe-down!”
He took Billy by the arm and stepped up to one end of the room. He explained to the crowd about his broken arm, and then went on: “Say, folks, let me introduce to you the fiddler of the evenin’, whose name is … whose name is … well, we like to give fiddlers fancy names, so let’s call him Blue Ridge Billy!”
Everybody laughed and clapped and stamped their feet. Billy blushed and hung his head.
“You have the chance, folks, to listen to Blue Ridge Billy’s first public performance,” Fiddlin’ Jamie went on. “A few years from now, this young feller may surprise you by becoming the Champion Fiddler o’ the County … and after that, Champion o’ North Caroliny, and after that, of the U. S. Nation!”
They all clapped and stamped again.
“But meanwhiles,” added Fiddlin’ Jamie, “if he makes a few mistakes, just don’t pay ’em no mind. He ain’t had too much time to practice up. All right, let’s go. I’ll do the callin’, while Billy does the fiddlin’—a good ole mountain tune, Soldier’s Joy! Get your partners. Form a ring! Count off! Start the music! All go left!”
Billy lifted his beautiful new fiddle to its place under his chin. It felt comfortable and so did the bow in his hand. As the fiddle began to sing, a great joy filled his heart. He forgot the frolicking people in front of him. His dream had come true at last.
“Promenade All!” Fiddlin’ Jamie’s calls rang out high over the music: “Right hands over, left hands back …” “Bird hop out and crow hop in …” “Ladies bow, gents know how …”
The dancing figures moved to the rhythm of Billy’s music. The floor shook and the windows rattled, as the calls rang out and gay feet moved lightly over the rough pine floor.
The evening passed quickly for Billy.
He was conscious of other things besides the fiddle tunes which seemed to come out of their own accord. He could see his mother, sitting against the wall in the corner, smiling happily, with Mazie and Red Top asleep in her lap. Now and then he had a glimpse of Sarey Sue Trivett, dancing as she had never danced before, wearing a new dress all covered with “purties.”
Then he saw that Granny Trivett had become the center of attention. She might be a hundred—nobody knew how old—but there she was, dancing and bowing and joining hands with Uncle Pozy, and hopping and tripping about as lively as young Sarey Sue. Everybody on the floor, even the dancers, watched her. When she sat down, breathless at last, they clapped and stamped until the walls of the building shook.
When the dancing was over, all the people, young and old, crowded round to praise Billy for his fiddling, and to tease Fiddlin’ Jamie. “We don’t need you no more, Jamie,” they said. “We got us a better fiddler than you.”
“Oh ho! When I learn this young ground hog all I know,” retorted Fiddlin’ Jamie, “maybe he’ll be worth a dab o’ grease.”
Even Jeb Dotson came up to shake Billy’s hand.
“Young feller,” he said, “if I’d a knowed how bad you wanted that ere banjo, I’d a give hit to you. If I’d a knowed what a good player you’d be, I wouldn’t a sold hit.…”
“Who did you sell it to?” asked Billy.
“That sorry little ole Burl Moseley,” said Jeb. “Course I knowed he had his Pappy’s git’-tar.… His fingers was good at pickin’, but he never had wits enough to make a tune. He just ding-donged his Pappy till he got whatever he wanted outa him, and he wanted that ere banjo just to keep you from gettin’ hit, and so his Pappy give me money—”
Billy turned away from him. He had heard enough.
Then Uncle Pozy came up, his round face wreathed in smiles.
“You’ve got music in your blood, son,” he said gently, “like I been sayin’ all along. You’ll be a fiddler shore as water runs downhill. Your Pap believes hit now, don’t he?”
Pappy stepped up. He had heard what Uncle Pozy said.
“’Twas you set me right, Uncle Pozy,” he replied, “just by talkin’ about Billy’s little ole possum dog. That was a new i-dee to me, but now I can see hit plain as the graveyard. This here boy can’t keep from makin’ music no more than that hound pup can stop ketchin’ possums! Haw, haw!”
“Haw, haw, haw!” Uncle Pozy laughed too, and slapped Pappy on the back.
“That boy o’ mine’s the workin’est boy in the holler,” Pappy went on. “He’ll make a better farmer than his Pap, if he does some fiddlin’ now and then.”
“Wait till all them city folks come a-runnin’ to hear this boy fiddle,” said Uncle Jamie. “He’ll make Blue Ridge Billy a name to be proud of.”
Billy hung his head. He was not used to praise.
Then suddenly, Sarey Sue was there beside him.
“Remember my quilt-top, Billy? Remember what I said to you that day?”
Billy nodded. He could not trust himself to speak.
Then Sarey Sue added softly, “A dream’s just obliged to come true, ain’t hit?”
MOUNTAIN WORDS AND PHRASES
Many words used in the Southern Highlands are pure “Old English” forms, called Anglo-Saxon—words used by Chaucer and Shakespeare. They have been handed down by word of mouth from Elizabethan days and earlier. The speech of the mountain people is not “poor English,” but good Old English. It has been preserved in the mountains, but has been allowed to die out in other parts of our country.
air—are or is
argify—argue
ary (pronounced “air-y”)—any
a bait of meat—a taste of
baitin’ trouble—making trouble
banjer—banjo
bestir—stir up, rouse
bide—to stay
biggety—over-proud
biscuit-bread—soda biscuits
bitty, little—little bit of
booger man—a haunt or ghost
burl, laurel—the knotty root of a wild rhododendron bush
case-knife—table knife
clift—cliff
corn-shucks—husks of corn
cow-brute—cow
cow-chop—cow feed
a-cravin—wanting badly
critter—animal
darst—dare
ding-donged—annoyed
down the country—the level land below the mountains
I druther—I’d rather
evenin’—afternoon or evening
fetch—to go and bring something back
fit—fought, had a fight
fore day—morning
fotched-on—brought on from somewhere else
nigh in a franzy—worried.
a fur piece—a long way
furrin’—foreign
gall—impudence, nerve
gallivantin’—roaming for pleasure
gamesome—mischievous, out for a good time
git-tar—guitar
grub with a maddick—to dig with a mattock or a digging tool
grubbin’—digging
hankerin’—wanting badly
ha’nt—ghost
histed—hoisted, lifted
hit—it
holler, hollow—valley between mountains
holler—to call out
jolt-wagon—farm wagon that jolts on rough country roads
kin, kinfolks—relatives
knee-baby—a walking baby
law ’em—bring a law-suit against
leather-britches—dried string beans
light down—to dismount from a horse
light out—to start out
make a crop—grow a crop
make a stab—try
mammy (pronounced “mom-my”)—mother
master hand for notions—having fanciful ideas
mosey—to stroll or walk slowly
muley cow—a cow that never had any horns
rse
nigh—near
nigh in a franzy—worried
pappy (pronounced “pop-py”)—father
passel—parcel, piece
pizen—poison
to pleasure—to please
plumb purty—very pretty
plumb welcome—very welcome
plunder—possessions
poke—sack or bag
prankin’—having fun
purties—flowers
rabbity—timid
raggedy-drag—ragged, unkempt
relish—like the taste of
right smart—a great deal
rive shingles—split shingles from a chunk of wood
rock-house—cave
sassyfrack—sassafras
set a spell on—to bewitch
get shet of—get rid of
shootin’ irons—guns
shore—sure
shucks—husks of corn
sight of money—a great deal
skedaddle—run away quickly
sleep in feathers—sleep on a feather bed
smack-dab—exactly
sorry—of no account, not worth anything
spindling—thin and slender
stay sot—seated
streaked middlin’—lean bacon
takened—took
tarry—to stay at a place
thickety—thick and bushy
this un—this one
tike—mischievous, annoying child
tote—to carry
traipsin’—walking
whole endurin’ day—all day long
wildy—grown wild
’witchin’—bewitching
workin’est—most industrious
yarbin’—digging roots and gathering herbs
yarbs—herbs
you-uns—you ones
A Biography of Lois Lenski
Lois Lenski was born in Springfield, Ohio, on October 14, 1893. The fourth of five children of a Lutheran minister and a schoolteacher, she was raised in the rural town of Anna, Ohio, west of Springfield, where her father was the pastor. Many of the children’s books she wrote and illustrated take place in small, closely knit communities all over the country that are similar to Lenski’s hometown.
After graduating from high school in 1911, Lenski moved with her family to Columbus, where her father joined the faculty at Capital University. Because Capital did not yet allow women to enroll, she attended college at Ohio State University. Lenski took courses in education, planning to become a teacher like her mother, but also studied art, and was especially interested in drawing. In 1915, with a bachelor’s degree and a teaching certificate, she decided to pursue a career in art, and moved to New York City to take classes at the Art Students League of New York.
In an illustration class at the League, Lenski met a muralist named Arthur Covey. She assisted him in painting several murals, and also supported herself by taking on parttime jobs drawing fashion advertisements and lettering greeting cards. In October 1920, she left New York to continue her studies in Italy and London, where the publisher John Lane hired her to illustrate children’s books. When she returned to New York in 1921, she married Covey and became stepmother to his two children, Margaret and Laird.
Early in her career, Lenski dedicated herself to book illustration. When a publisher suggested that she try writing her own stories, she drew upon the happy memories of her childhood. Her first authored book, Skipping Village (1927), is set in a town that closely resembles Anna at the start of the twentieth century. A Little Girl of 1900 (1928) soon followed, also clearly based on Lenski’s early life in rural Ohio.
In 1929, Lenski’s son, Stephen, was born, and the family moved to a farmhouse called Greenacres in Harwinton, Connecticut, which they would call home for the next three decades. Lenski continued to illustrate other authors’ books, including the original version of The Little Engine That Could (1930) by Watty Piper, and the popular Betsy-Tacy series (1940–55) by Maud Hart Lovelace. Lenski also wrote the Mr. Small series (1934–62), ten books based on Stephen’s antics as a toddler.
The house at Greenacres had been built in 1790 and it became another source of inspiration, as Lenski liked to imagine the everyday lives of the people who had previously lived in her home. In Phebe Fairchild, Her Book (1936), for instance, a young girl is sent to live with her father’s family on their farm in northwestern Connecticut in 1830, when Greenacres would have been forty years old. For its rich and detailed depiction of family life in rural New England, the book was awarded the Newbery Honor.
Other historical novels followed—including A-Going to the Westward (1937), set in central Ohio; Bound Girl of Cobble Hill (1938); Ocean-Born Mary (1939); Blueberry Corners (1940); and Puritan Adventure (1944)—all set in New England; and Indian Captive (1941), a carefully researched retelling of the true story of Mary Jemison, a Pennsylvania girl captured by a raiding Native American tribe, for which Lenski won a second Newbery Honor.
By 1941, Lenski’s stepdaughter, Margaret, had married and started her own family, and Margaret’s son, David, spent a great deal of time with his grandparents at the farm. Lenski’s Davy series of seven picture books (1941–61) was largely based on David’s visits to Connecticut as a child.
During this period, Lenski experienced bouts of illness, brought on by the harsh Connecticut winters. The family began to spend winters in Florida, where she “saw the real America for the first time,” as she wrote in her autobiography. Noting how few books described the daily life of children in different parts of the country, she began writing the Regional America series, starting with Bayou Suzette (1943). The seventeen books in this series depict children’s lives in every region of the United States, from New England to the Pacific Northwest, in rural and urban settings. Lenski traveled to each region that she would later feature in her books, spending three to six weeks in each locale. She collected stories from children and adults in each area, documenting their dialect, learning about their way of life, and otherwise getting to know the people that would become the characters in her books. The second book in the series, Strawberry Girl, won the Newbery Medal in 1946. The Roundabout America series (1952–66), intended for younger readers, was based on the same theme of daily life all over the country. Lenski was unparalleled in the diversity of American lifestyles that she documented; the combination of research, interviews, and drawings that she utilized; and the empathy and honesty that she employed in recording people’s lives.
Other popular series for children followed, including four books about the seasons—Spring Is Here (1945), Now It’s Fall (1948), I Like Winter (1950), and On a Summer Day (1953)—and the seven Debbie books (1967–71), based on Lenski’s experiences with her granddaughter. Lenski also published several volumes of songs and poetry, mostly for children.
In early 1960, Lenski’s husband died, and she soon sold the farm in Connecticut to live in Florida year round. There she wrote her autobiography, Journey Into Childhood (1972). Lenski died on September 11, 1974, at her home in Florida. The Lois Lenski Covey Foundation, which she established to promote literacy and reading among at-risk children, continues her mission by providing grants to school and public libraries each year.
Lenski in 1897, at age four, when she lived in Springfield, Ohio. She was born there on October 14, 1893.
Lenski photographed at age seven or eight, when the family lived in Anna, Ohio. The family lived in Anna for twelve years. It was there that Lenski developed her love of country life and began drawing and painting.
Lenski with her family in Anna, Ohio. From left to right: sister Esther; brothers, Oscar and Gerhard; father, Richard; Lois; mother, Marietta; and in front, sister Mariam.
Lenski’s high school graduation photo, taken in 1911. Her English teacher predicted that some day she would “do some form of creative work.”
Lenski in her studio in Pelham Manor, New York, around 1925. She lived there with her husband, Arthur; stepchildren, Margaret and La
ird; and later, her son, Stephen.
Lenski with Stephen, age three, in 1932.
Lenski with Stephen and Arthur in 1946, just after she had won the Newbery Award for Strawberry Girl. With them is their pet goat, Missy.
Eventually, Lenski’s declining health led her to move to a warmer climate. In this 1960s photo, she is in her studio in Tarpon Springs, Florida.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1946 by Lois Lenski
Cover design by Andrea Worthington
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2204-0
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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