ONE

Moving

PETER and Patsy Mitchell stood on the front lawn of their home in Washington, D.C. They watched the furniture being carried out of the house into a big moving van, a much larger one than the neighbors had used when they had moved. But then the neighbors had only one child and the Mitchells had six, not counting pets. At present only Peter and Patsy could really enjoy the move; Joan was rocking Baby Catherine to sleep and Angela and Timmy had been foisted onto neighbors, for fear they'd manage to get themselves packed up with the furniture.

Peter and Patsy, nine and eleven respectively, could be trusted to take care of themselves, yet they just escaped being old enough to be always pressed into service, like poor Joan. Of course Joan didn't really mind, she liked to help and she adored Baby Catherine.

The moving men were straining and puffing. They had ropes and small carts to help them carry the heavy furniture. Now they were lifting the piano down the steps. Sweat streamed down their faces as they cried out to one another in French. They spoke French because they came from Montreal. They spoke it so quickly it was hard to understand them even when you knew French. One of the men had said something to Grannie but Grannie had kept shaking her head.

"Plus lentement," she'd begged, which means "slower."

So the man had talked very, very slowly and Grannie had understood but it hadn't been worth the trouble. He had only been saying that it was hot, as if everyone didn't know that.

The men were packing the furniture into the van. They put sacks over it for protection. They fitted everything in like a jigsaw puzzle. There went Timmy's tricycle and Angela's doll carriage, but not her dolls, Surshy and Traincrack. Mother had wanted to pack them in a trunk but Angela had forbidden it.

"You don't pack us in a trunk, do you?" she had said indignantly. "My children want to go in the train and look out of the window too." So Surshy and Traincrack were waiting somewhere on a window sill, all dressed up to go. There went Grannie's radio.

"I hope it doesn't break," said Peter. "What will Grannie do if she can't hear the 'Mayor of the Town'?"

"Or 'Information Please,' " agreed Patsy.

There went Catherine's crib and high chair. They used to be Timmy's, the marks of his teeth were still on them. Catherine didn't bite things; she was very dainty.

Peter wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "It sure is hot," he said. "Maybe it will be cooler in Canada."

"Of course, because it's farther north there," Patsy instructed him.

"Yes, but that's what I don't understand," said Peter, frowning. "North is only nearer to the North Pole and if you go all the way up, right slap bang into the middle of the North Pole, then where is north? There isn't any."

Patsy hadn't thought of that. "There must be," she said.

"No, there isn't," crowed Peter. "Up in the middle of the North Pole there's only south. I must go there some day."

"Let's go inside and look at the house now," proposed Patsy.

They wandered through the dusty, empty rooms. Neither of them could remember ever having lived anywhere else. This house was as much a part of them as their teeth or noses. It disturbed them to see it so bare and friendless now.

"Do you like going away?" asked Patsy softly.

Peter ruffied his hair with one hand. He remembered how he had looked forward to Canada. When Daddy came home from the war his position in Washington was still available, but prices had gone up so much that Daddy preferred to look around for abetter one. Through a Canadian soldier friend of his he finally got a very good offer, a permanent job as hydraulic supervisor in Montreal. He jumped at it, but when the contract was signed he discovered that there wasn't a house for rent in the whole of Montreal. For a year he had hunted without results, and all that time his family had to stay in Washington. Even the children at school had finally ceased to admire the Mitchells for going to Canada.

But just when the summer holidays started Daddy wrote to say he had found a house. "It's only for the summer, though. After that we'll have to find something else."

"And what if we don't?" Grannie ventured to murmur, but the children thought it quite safe. ..what all couldn't happen in three months!

And now it was true for sure. The moving men had come and would put the Mitchells' furniture in Storage for them in Montreal until they found a permanent house. It was all very adventurous and delightful. Yet, when Patsy asked, "Do you like going away?" Peter felt a queer tightening of his throat. He suddenly realized that he loved this house, old and shabby though it might be.

"Let's go through all the rooms once more," he suggested.

They walked on tiptoes because their steps sounded so hollow. They knew every spot and crack and creak in the house; everything had its history. Peter had shot that hole in the hall window with his arrow. Mother had given him the bow and arrows at Christmas and she had been so proud that they shot well until that hole. After that she wasn't so proud any more.

And that spot of ink on the hall floor was left from the day when Angela had poured the ink bottIe over Snow White in the hope of changing the poor kitten's color. And the tear in the screen wire of the porch had been the work of Blinkie, the pet squirrel. And the hole right through the wall of the lit tIe front bedroom dated from the time that Patsy had been quarantined there for scarlet fever. Peter and she had worked at it from both ends until they could talk together, but it had been a secret; a picture had covered it. Now it stood bare and naked, for everyone to see.

"Do you remember how you used to buy me popsicles with your pocket money and stick them through that hole, and one was so big it wouldn't go through?" said Patsy dreamily. "I don't think I'll ever get over this house."

She sat down on the hall steps and Peter sat down beside her. "Do you remember the Christmas with Mr. Spencer and Eunice?"

"I was only six then," said Peter. "But I do remember when they went back to England and we waved good-by to them. It was a very big boat, wasn't it? And they took Snow White with them, and Bertha the bunny. I wonder how they like England."

"So many Christmases," Patsy went on. "So many Easters, so many birthdays. Do you think they have Christmas and Easter in Canada?"

"Well, anyway, they can't take away our birthdays," Peter consoled her.

Suddenly the stillness of the house was broken by a scream from Joan, and a few seconds later she flung open the door of what used to be Mother's bedroom and ran into the passage, clutching a surprised but placid Catherine.

Joan had grown very tall the last year or so and was developing what Mother called a "pretty figure." People nowadays remarked on Joan's improved looks. She was taller and thinner than she used to be, her eyes seemed larger, with long, coal-black lashes and quirky eyebrows, and her hair had begun to curl around her forehead. But people admired her expression most.

"She must be a sweet girl," they said. "A real help to her mother. "

And she was. She had taken over the care of Catherine from the day she was born. Catherine was born at home because there was no place in the hospital. It had been difficult to get help; Gwendolyn dared not touch a newborn baby, so Mother had kept Joan at home and taught her to wash and dress Catherine. Joan said it was much more fun than taking care of a dog. Joan was only two years older than Patsy but Patsy was beginning to feel as if there were six years between them, at least. Joan could look so sedate and understanding, listening to Mother's and Daddy's talk and voicing a calm opinion which no one snubbed. Patsy felt downright ashamed of her at those moments and would mutter fiercely to herself: "She acts like a grownup!" But at present Joan was her own age and very excited.

"Do you know what happened?" she cried. "Catherine was almost electrocuted!"

"How? How?" cried Peter and Patsy, jumping up. Grannie opened the door of her room. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Joan turned to her. "The baby. .." she gasped. "She had waked up and I was minding her and you know that big electric cord in Mother's room! It plugs in and then it has a gadget at the end for two extension cords. The moving men took away the lamp and the clock but they didn't unplug the cord and left the gadget on the floor and I just caught Catherine as she was trying to put it into her mouth!"

"My goodness, that was terribly dangerous," cried Grannie, startled. "What a clever girl you are, Joan, to think of that. It wouldn't look dangerous at all!"

"Would she have died?" asked Peter, awed.

"Not necessarily," said Grannie. "I know of a little toddler who did just that, but she didn't die. She was knocked unconscious and her lower lip was burned away. Her parents had a terrible time taking her to skin specialists who more or less fixed her up again. You are a clever girl, Joan. ..that poor baby. .." and Grannie held her arms out to Catherine, but Catherine only clung more tightly to Joan.

At that moment the moving men came up the stairs to fetch Grannie's bed. Grannie had with many French words persuaded them to leave her bed till the last. For some reason the beds were the first things they had wanted to pack when they had started the day before. So the other Mitchells had been sleeping on the floor, but Grannie was too old for that and they left her her bed. Now they came to fetch it. Grannie might look as pathetic as she pleased, the bed was carried downstairs.

"Where'll I sit? " cried Grannie helplessly.

There wasn't anywhere for her to sit except on the stairs and everyone knew that Grannie couldn't sit long on anything hard.

So Peter went down to where the telephone still wobbled on the top of the radiator and dialed a number. He was worried about Grannie. It was now about twelve o'clock and the train didn't go till four. She couldn't be without a chair all that time! Mother didn't matter so much, she was rushing around anyway, supervising the moving men, because she said if she didn't they were sure to pack all the empty bottles and garbage cans with holes and seatless chairs and maybe leave behind the icebox. It was quite a spectacle to see them pack; they just snatched any object they could reach, without looking at it, rolled it in newspapers, and dropped it in a barrel. Gwendolyn, the maid, had rescued her coat and hat and hung them in the garage or they would have packed those, too.

But Grannie could not help and now she wandered around miserably, hesitating between the fatigue of standing and the agony of sitting. So Peter dialed the number of Mrs. Duquesne, Grannie's best friend, and said:

"Hello, is this Mrs. Duquesne? This is Peter. You know we are leaving today, the moving men are here and they took all our chairs and Grannie has nowhere to sit and the train only goes at four. ...Oh yes, that would be lovely, thank you." Peter quickly dropped the receiver.

"Grannie, Grannie," he shouted. "Mrs. Duquesne is coming with her car to fetch you! You're going to have lunch there and a nap. But be sure now that you are at the station at four. Please don't miss the train, that would be dreadful!"

Grannie was delighted. Her cheeks grew pink with pleasure as she put on her hat, hoping it looked right, for there were no mirrors. Soon Mrs. Duquesne arrived. It was time, too. Grannie was already stiff with sitting on the stairs.

"Be sure to bring her to the station before four," said Peter anxiously as he helped Grannie into the car. "Yes, yes, we'll take good care of her," promised Mrs. Duquesne, smiling.

When the car left, Peter inspected the moving van. It was quite full, yet there were still heaps of things in the house. The two men seemed worried. They kept shaking their heads and saying French words. They went to Mother and made motions with their hands. Mother looked scared. She said something and the men shrugged their shoulders.

"Goodness," cried Mother. "I must phone my husband - mon mari. "

The men spat gloomily into the yard. Mother rang long distance. "I want to speak to John Mitchell, Elwood 3771, Montreal, Canada." It was some time before she got him.

"Listen, John, they can't get all our furniture in, they say. Into the van, of course. Oh, lots and lots. In the basement. ..trunks and the baby carriage and that nice sofa. ..they say they'll have to leave them. But all our clothes, John. ..and the new people won't come in until Monday. ..and you know you can't really lock up this house. ...Yes, they say there is another van going day after tomorrow. I put red labels on all the things we'd need in the country and I did tell them to keep them apart but I don't think they understood. Oh dear, I'm so worried. ...No, I know you can't help it. ...Phone the police to keep an eye on the house? All right. ..all right, dear, I won't keep you." Mother put down the phone.

"What is it, Mommy?" asked Joan, but Mother brushed her off like a fly.

"Be quiet," she snapped. "C'est bien," she told the moving men. " Mon mari ...agrees, il consent. Oui, you can leave the stuff in the basement. ..what is basement in French? Where is Grannie? Grannie, what is basement? Gone? To Mrs. Duquesne's? Why? Oui, oui, descendez bas. ..laissez lo-bas, oui. "

Mother looked around for something to sink onto. She felt weak in the legs. But the radiator was too high and the floor too low so she leaned against the wall instead.

"All our trunks. .." she murmured. "And I asked them to pack those first but they didn't listen. And anyone can break into this house. ..."

"Oh, I'll ask Dickie and Butch to keep watch," offered Peter. "They're training to be detectives and they'll love it."

He flew off to enlist the help of his friends. Mother held her throbbing forehead with both hands and tried not to cry. She had been on her feet since five that morning, as the moving men had daylight saving time and preferred to work while it was still cool. She had planned so carefully and worked so hard and now all threatened to go wrong because the van was too small. It wasn't fair. Who would have thought that all the shabby little odds and ends that made up their furniture would take up so much space? If only the trunks could have gone. ..it takes a lot to dress six children. ...

"Mother, do you know that Baby was almost killed?" asked Joan.

"What?" With a shock Mother stood upright. "Killed? How?"

Joan told her what had happened and Mother grabbed Catherine and buried her nose in the baby's wispy hair, feeling a passionate gratitude. What did it matter about the trunks as long as her children were alive and well and didn't have to be left in a basement? They were her treasures and they were going with her. So with a singing heart she rushed off to supervise the final cramming of the van. When it left at last it had furniture tied outside with ropes. It looked as if one more chair would make everything collapse, but the men said it would be all right. The van slowly groaned into motion, watched after by most of the children in the street.

"When are we going to eat, Mother?" asked Peter when he returned from his mission.

Gwendolyn had been sweeping the empty rooms and now sat on the sink in the kitchen looking helpless. It is hard to prepare a meal when there is only a stove and a sink and even the can opener has been taken away. Besides, Gwendolyn was melancholy. She had been with the Mitchells since just before Catherine's birth and she loved them all. She couldn't get over the fact that they were leaving, and added to the general confusion by loudly weeping into her apron from time to time. It was no use expecting a meal from her.

Luckily Timmy trudged up the steps presently and announced that the lady who was taking care of him and Angela now invited Patsy and Peter to lunch, too. Mother then decided that she and Joan would have a snack at the drugstore and leave Catherine to be fed by Gwendolyn. There were still some cans of baby foods and a beer-can opener.

But just at that moment several of Mother's dearest friends came to say good-by, and then the phone rang, another friend wanting to know how everything was get- ting along, and another phone call to ask about the maid: "Was she free to work somewhere else now?"

Finally Mother had to feed Catherine while Gwendolyn made arrangements for another position. At last Joan said she'd go to the drugstore alone and fetch Mother a sandwich, and as she left, another batch of friends were mounting the front steps to say good-by.

Then Angela and Timmy had to be fetched back and dressed in clean clothes, which had been painstakingly kept out of the clutches of the moving men. But Angela wasn't satisfied with Traincrack's appearance and had to wash her at the last minute, wetting her own dress. Then Timmy was lost, and everyone looked allover the house until he was found in the cellar, inside the baby buggy, fast asleep.

Trusty, the dog, and Mr. Jenkins, the parrot, had to be packed into baskets, to their disgust. Especially Mr. Jenkins, who cried loudly: "What a shame, what a shame!" The fishes had been donated to neighbors; their habits were too moist for a train journey.

At last all was ready and Mother telephoned for a taxi, only to find to her dismay that there was none to be got there was a taxi strike on. She had been too busy moving to know about it, as she hadn't read a paper or listened to the radio. So there she was, at three-thirty, hot and weary, with six children, a dog, a parrot, and two dolls, with no way of getting to the station. Luckily a friend saved the situation by offering to drive them over in his car.

And so they cast a last look at their house, so dreary and bereaved without its curtains, gave a last handshake to the group of mournful friends, and off they went in Mr. Dowling's large car.

A feeling of peace settled over the family. It was done now, the cables were cut, they were launched. Before them spread the Unknown.

Mother had bought tickets and reserved compartments a month beforehand, so they were in plenty of time and even had to wait for the gates to open. It was hard to keep the little ones from running around. Luckily the dog and the parrot were going in the baggage car, so they were off Mother's hands. They had food and drink with them, and it was probable that they would survive the trip. Both were dear to the Mitchells, Trusty because he had helped to save Daddy when he was shipwrecked and Mr. Jenkins because he had been a present from dear, darling Uncle Jim who had never returned from the war.

The large hands of the station clock moved forward, but Grannie hadn't arrived yet. Peter worried. Grannie was his special friend; he felt responsible for her. Besides, it had been his idea to send her to Mrs. Duquesne's. "Don't you think Grannie ought to be here?" he asked of Mother.

Mother glanced at the clock.

"Goodness, yes, it's ten to four," she cried. "Where is Grannie? I have her ticket, too!"

The gates were opening now and a porter was urging Mother to go on. Angela was already back from doing gymnastics on the railing, and Timmy had fallen asleep again, half on and half off a suitcase.

"We'd better get them settled first, Mother," advised Peter. "Then we can always go back to find Grannie." So Mother explained to the man at the gate about the ticket and the missing Grannie and then they all trooped behind the porter, Joan carrying Catherine, Peter half dragging Timmy, and Patsy helping Angela to carry her dolls.

Mother had engaged three compartments, little private rooms in the train. Two, connecting ones, were for herself, the girls, and Timmy; Grannie and Peter had a smaller one in another car. The children were wildly excited, and all seemed to want to sit in the same place. Mother had a hard time settling them, and so she didn't notice how Peter slipped away.

At last peace returned. Catherine sat in her auto seat, nibbling a biscuit, Timmy and Angela took out their coloring books and crayons, and Joan and Patsy hung up their coats and hats like thoughtful young ladies. But where was Petet?

Joan and Mother ran from one compartment to another, trying to locate him and merely bumping into a lot of passengers intent on getting to their seats and not a bit interested in Peter. It was two minutes to four and Mother became frantic. It was bad enough having Grannie late, but now Peter, too!

Patsy thought she had an idea what Peter had been up to, so she leaned out of the platform door, very much in everybody's way, and scanned the clock and the passen- gers in turn.

One minute to four. ..half a minute. ..fifteen seconds. ...And then Patsy let out a shout of joy, for she had caught sight of Peter, who was running like mad and dragging Grannie after him. Poor Grannie had lost her hat and looked completely exhausted, but what with Patsy pulling and Peter pushing they managed to get her into the train just as the whistle blew and the wheels started to move.

"Oh, dears," panted Grannie, when Peter deposited her beside Catherine in one of Mother's compartments, "I made it, thanks to Peter I made it!"

"What happened?" asked Mother, who felt so relieved that she had all her chickens together that it was as if there had been no trouble at all that day.

"Wait till I get my breath and I'll tell you," gasped Grannie.

So they all waited in suspense while Grannie examined her bag, snapped it shut, wiped her nose, and straightened her hair.

"The Duquesnes' car got a flat tire," she explained at last. " And there was no taxi. And putting on a new wheel would take too long, I thought, so I took a trolley, but it went in the wrong direction. And then I had to run and I lost my hat, but I hadn't time to go back, and as I entered the station and saw it was four o'clock I thought I was too late and would have gone back if Peter hadn't come like a whirlwind and pulled me into the train!"

"Well, thank goodness," said Mother, leaning back on the soft seat. "We're all here and now I don't have to do a thing until tomorrow morning." And closing her eyes she gave herself up to the train's rhythm, while the children, relieved of their fears about Grannie, settled down to enjoy their first overnight trip in a train.

Contents

Falling Stars 3
Lightning! 5
Feeding Baby Plants 7
Freezing and Solids 11
Nerves and Your Sense of Touch 14
Eyes to See 18
How to Dress a Duck 21
Our Hearts and Theirs 25
Spit! 29
God's Building Blocks 33
Invisible Marks 37
The Salt of the Earth 41
He Will Dry Every Tear 45
Light from Light 49
Before You Were Bom 53
Baby Food 57
Dominion Over the Earth 61
Power in Weakness 65
Traveling Seeds 69
Ears to Hear 73
Coloring Adam and Eve 77
Run for Your Life! 81
Precious Blood 85
Answer Key 89
Key to Pronunciations 92
Sources 94


Baby Food

Do you have special birthday customs at your house? At our house, the 'Birthday Child' gets to pick whatever she' d like for dinner. Sometimes our menus look like this: hot corn on the cob, fluffy mashed potatoes and gravy, crispy chicken and chocolate ice cream. Does that sound good to you? If it is a good 'birth-day' meal, would it be a good meal for a baby which had just been born? No, a little baby could not eat that meal, because its tiny body needs only one thing--milk!

God's perfect food for babies is milk from their mothers! When a mother nurses, or feeds her baby from her breast, she is giving it the best food possible. Mother's milk not only makes her child grow big and strong, but helps keep the baby healthy, too. That is because there is a special ingredient in the milk called antibodies. Antibodies are disease-fighters which give the baby extra protection against germs.

Most people think that, when a mother nurses her baby, it is just good for the baby. But Our Lord, in His always perfect plans, made nursing benefit the mother, too. Women who nurse their babies have more protection against some types of cancer. A nursing mother also recovers more quickly from childbirth. Isn't God good to think of everything?

Most babies spend a full nine months in the womb before they are 'finished growing' and ready to be born. Sometimes, however, babies can be born too early, at eight or seven or six months of pregnancy. You already know a little bit about how a baby lives before it is born. Long before it is born, it is practicing breathing, and sucking and all of its little body is working at growing. However, not every part of the baby is mature, or ready to work on its own. Even a healthy newborn is not mature enough to take care of all its own needs; it has to have a Mom and Dad to feed it and care for it.

A baby born prematurely [before it is mature] is called a premature infant, or 'preemie'. These babies did not have time to finish maturing before they were born. Their tummies were not quite ready for food, and their lungs weren't quite ready to do the work of breathing. What would happen if you could not eat or breathe properly? You would be very sick, wouldn't you? That is the worry with preemies; if they cannot eat or breathe well, they can become very sick. But guess what--God has a special plan for preemies. In the past, doctors had a hard time making preemies well. But in the last several years, scientists have made many discoveries of God's special providence for His tiniest children. One of these discoveries is that, when a woman gives birth to a premature baby, her milk is different than it would be if the baby had been 'full-term " or in the womb for the full nine months!

Let's see if you can figure out how the mother's milk might be different. If a baby has trouble digesting its food and difficulty breathing, it would be pretty important to work at fixing those problems, wouldn't it? Well, that's just what Our Lord did. Scientists have discovered that women who give birth prematurely have milk that is even richer in 'growth factors', that speed up the maturing of the baby's lungs and digestive system.

The premature infant also needs a 'boost' to grow the strong bones and muscles that he would have developed within the womb. So God gave this specially designed mother's milk extra protein for muscles, calcium for bones and antibodies to fight germs! Finally, scientists have found that this special milk continues to be made in the mother's body for several weeks after the baby is born, to give the baby the extra help that it needs. How well Our Lord provides for us! For all His wondrous works, may Jesus Christ be forever praised!

"She of the King of Stars beloved,
stainless, undefiled,
Christ chose as His Mother-nurse,
to Him, the stainless Child;
Within her breast, as in a nest,
the Paraclete reposes,
Lily among fairest flowers,
Rose amid red roses."

from Hymn To the Virgin Mary, by Conal O'Riordan

I. What are the disease-fighters which give protection against genus called?

2. Look up calcium in the encyclopedia. Why do we need calcium in our diet? Which foods are rich in calcium ?

3. Look up protein in the encyclopedia. Why do we need protein in our diet? Which foods are rich in protein?