Emiline Elmwood, an imaginative young girl in the Old West, dreams of being a hero. But does she really have what it takes? As she is faced with needy neighbors and the school bully whom she has learned to hate, her courage is put to the test. Can s...
Emiline slipped out of bed. A little light was pouring into her bedroom, but it was still very early. She had slept restlessly that night, worrying about her father. She had known he was going to come home late the evening before, but even after ten o-clock, he hadn't arrived. Somehow, she hadn't heard the door shut when he had finally come in. But now, she smiled and sighed joyfully. She could hear her father's deep voice downstairs.
Eagerly, Emma ran to her closet, threw a dress on, and slipped her cold feet into some warm socks. Then she tiptoed out of her room. She was ready to rush down to the living room and throw her arms around her father's neck. But just as she reached the middle of the staircase, she stopped and stared in shock. Her mother and father were sitting by the fireplace just as they always did in the mornings. But lying on the coach was Peter. He was still fast asleep.
What's he doing here? she shrieked inside. He has no right to be in my house!
She stepped down into the living room and listened to her parents talking. They hadn't seen her yet because they had their backs turned to her.
"I wonder why he was out in the blizzard all alone?" Father whispered.
"It is strange," Mother agreed. "Maybe he was trying to find his way home." She looked over at him sadly. "The poor boy."
Nothing could make Peter poor, Emiline thought angrily. She tiptoed up the stairs again and crawled back into bed. Her whole day was going to be ruined. She wouldn't come out of her bedroom. Not until Peter was gone.
Emma tried to go back to sleep, but now she was too upset. Instead, she ended up lying awake, brooding. Why did Father have to bring him home? she wondered. He would have found his way back to his own house sooner or later. She blew a strand of hair away from her face. I suppose it was good of Father though, she grumbled. I just wish someone else could have helped him out.
She lay in bed, tormented by frustration and boredom, until seven-thirty. Then she read a book for another hour. Surely Peter would be gone by now. She opened her door and crept downstairs again, being careful to stay out of sight.
By then, Elizabeth and Lucy were running around the house, playing with their toys and making a racket. Peter groaned and turned over on the couch. He covered his ears in irritation and tried to go back to sleep.
He's still here. Emiline hissed to herself. She frowned and ventured down further. What a selfish, wicked boy, she thought. He probably isn't even thankful for Father's help. She walked into the kitchen and spooned some porridge into a bowl.
"Good morning, Emma!" Mother greeted cheerfully.
"Good morning," the girl replied distractedly. "Mother, what is that horrible boy doing in our house?"
"Hush," Mother scolded. "You're going to wake him up. Your father will take him home soon. But right now, he needs to rest. Your father found him walking in the blizzard last night."
Emma sat down at the table and stirred her porridge with a gloomy attitude. "Can I go to Susan's today?" she asked quietly. Please, oh please say yes! she begged inside. I can't stay in this house. Not while he's here!
"I don't know," Mother answered. "I know the blizzard is over, but it's very cold outside, and the snow is so deep!"
Emiline's hopes sank. Then she perked up with a thought. "But I can wear Father's snowshoes!" she said desperately. "And I'll bundle up! Please, Mother, I'm used to the snow. It won't bother me!"
Mother thought for a while. "Well, alright. If you wear a big coat and some snowshoes, I think you'll be alright. It isn't far to Susan's house."
"Thank you!" Emiline cried.
She rushed to finish her breakfast. Then she went out to tell her father good morning. The snow had mounded up all around the house, and Father was shoveling pathways to the barn and the chicken coop. He was going to be busy for a long time. Emma gave him a big hug and picked up a shovel. Helping Father made the time pass quicker. She wasn't about to stay inside and face Peter. She knew he would just be insulting and mean.
As soon as twelve o'clock came around, she bundled up and walked to Susan's house. Susan always expected her friend to come on Saturdays, so tea and treats were already waiting on the dining room table when Emiline arrived.
"My house has been invaded!" Emma cried dramatically, plopping down on one of the fancy cushioned chairs.
Susan laughed. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Last night, Father found Peter in the snowstorm, so he brought him home for the night."
Her friend looked surprised. "Peter was out in the snow storm?" the girl asked. "Why?"
"Oh, I don't know," Emma grumbled. "I don't want to know."
"But it sounds very exciting," Susan said. "I thought you liked heroic deeds."
"Heroic? What's heroic about bringing Peter to our house?"
Susan looked confused. She set a few cookies on Emma's plate and poured her a cup of warm tea. "Well, I think it was very kind of Mr. Elmwood to help Peter. You have to admit your father did the right thing even if Peter is mean."
"Oh, of course Father did the right thing. But I still don't see anything heroic about it."
Susan shrugged her shoulders and laughed again. For a few hours, she successfully kept Emiline's mind off of the invader who had stormed into her house. The girls talked and talked about other things. Susan had a new dream. She wanted to learn how to sew.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could sew my own clothes?" she asked excitedly. "Better yet, I could sew clothes for people who are poor!" She showed Emma a magazine full of dresses which she wished she could make.
"I'm sure my mother could teach you how to sew," Emiline said. "She's a very good teacher."
"Oh, what a wonderful idea!" Susan exclaimed. "Come on, let's ask Mother if I can!"
The girls ran upstairs to the library where Mrs. Elwin was reading a book.
"Emiline said that her mother could teach me how to sew! Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Susan cried.
The woman looked up in surprise. "Are you serious?" she asked. Susan nodded her head. "Well," Mrs. Elwin began thoughtfully, "I suppose that would be alright. But, Susan," she reasoned with a soft laugh, "you can buy dozens of pretty dresses which are already made. You needn't sew your own."
"Oh, I know, Mother," Susan said, sitting down beside the lady. "But I want to do it so badly. Sewing is such a charming skill. And if I can sew, I can make gifts for people."
Mrs. Elwin smiled. "Country life is rubbing off on you, isn't it, my dear?" she said. "Alright, if Jane would like to teach you to sew, you may."
For the rest of the day, Susan and Emiline talked about the beautiful things they would sew. Sewing was a common, almost boring thing to Emma. But to Susan it was exciting and new.
It wasn't until Emiline stepped back outside and headed home that she remembered how angry she had been that morning.
Oh well, surely Peter's gone home by now, she thought. After all, it's evening.
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