Part 43

"I'd choose to be a Storm at Sea!" said my Mother.

"What?" cried my Father.

"A Storm at Sea!" said my Mother.

My Father stopped saying "What?" And made a little gasping sound instead. "You?--You?" he said. "The gentlest soul that ever breathed?--Would like to be a 'Storm at Sea'?"

"It's only the 'mother' side of me that is gentle!" laughed my Mother. She threw back her head suddenly. She thrust out her hands. It jerked her soft, calm hair all fluffy and wild across her forehead. Her eyes danced! Her cheeks turned all pink! "Oh wouldn't it be fun?" she cried. "All the roaring! And the ranting! And the foaming! And the Furying!--Racing up the beaches in great waves! And splashes! Banging against the rocks! Scaring the fishes almost to pieces! Rocking the boats till people fell Bump right out of their berths onto the floor! Ruffling the gulls till----"

"You wouldn't actually--wreck a boat would you?" said my Father.

My Mother stopped tossing her head. And waving her hands. She gave a little sigh. She began mending my Father again very hard.

"Just----pirates," she said.

"O--h," said my Father.

"We intended to make the next one about 'Motions,'" I explained. "But it was too hard. Carol wanted to be an Elevator!--Carol says an Elevator is like quick-silver in a giant thermometer that's gone mad!--He wanted to be the motion it makes when the Elevator's going down and the floor's coming up! But it made me feel queer in my stomach!"

"Merciful Heavens!" said my Father. "What kind of a family have I drawn?--My Wife wants to be a 'Storm at Sea' and my Son aspires to feel like an 'Elevator Gone Mad'!"

Carol looked at my Mother. My Mother looked at Carol. They laughed their eyes together.

"So we made it 'Money' and 'Memory' instead," I explained.

"Made what 'Money' and 'Memory' instead?" said my Father.

"The next two questions," I explained.

"O--h," said my Mother.

"Fire away!" said my Father.

"Question No. 4," I said. "Which do you like best? Times? or Things?"

"Times or Things?" said my Father. "Whatever in the world do you mean?" His eyebrows looked pretty puzzled.

"Why, we mean," I explained, "if somebody gave you five whole dollars for your birthday--how would you rather spend it?--What would you get most fun out of, we mean?--Times? Or Things?--Would you be most apt to spend it for Rabbits, we mean? Or going to a Fair?"

"Oh," said my Father, "I see!--Times or Things?--Times--or things?--Why Things!" he decided almost at once. "Things of course!--When you buy a Thing you've got something really tangible for your money! Something definite! Something really to show!--'Rabbits' I admit would probably not be my choice.--But a book, now! A set of garden tools?--A pair of rubber boots even?"

"N--o," said my Mother very softly, "I'm almost sure I'd rather 'go to the Fair'!--'Times' or 'Things'?--Yes I'm perfectly positive," she cried out, "that Times give me more pleasure than Things do!--Now that I think of it I can see quite plainly that always--always I've preferred to spend my money 'going to the Fair'!"

"Yes, but how foolish," said my Father. "When the Fair's over it's over!--Nothing left to show for it but just a memory."

My Mother laughed right out loud. It was the prettiest laugh.

"Now that's where you're mistaken!" she laughed. "When the Fair's what you call 'over,'--that's the time it's really just begun!--Books get lost--or puppies chew them! Garden tools rust! Even the best rubber boots in the world get the most awful holes poked through their toes!--But a Happy Memory?--A Happy Memory--?" She jumped up suddenly and crept into my Father's arms.

My Father stroked her hair. And stroked it.

Carol kicked me in the shins.

"There's only one more question!" I cried out pretty loud.