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The whole world was gay in the early sunshine when Laura led Ellen to drink at the well. All over the prairie the little white blossoms of wild onion were dancing in the wind. Down the slope of the little hill below the shanty, patches of wild crocus spread yellow and blue in the young grass, and everywhere the sheep-sorrel uncurled its little pink-lavender flowers above sleek clover-shaped leaves. Laura bent down to pick them as she walked, and slowly nibbled the delightfully fresh, sour little stems and petals.
From the grassy swell where she pi
cketed Ellen she could see the town beyond to the north. Big Slough curved between and spread wide southwest, covering acres upon acres with its rough high grass. All the rest of the whole enormous prairie was a green carpet flowered with spring blossoms.
Big girl as she was, Laura spread her arms wide to the wind and ran against it. She flung herself on the flowery grass and rolled like a colt. She lay in the soft, sweet grasses and looked at the great blueness above her and the high, pearly clouds sailing in it. She was so happy that tears came into her eyes.
Suddenly she thought, “Have I got a grass stain on my dress?” She stood up and anxiously looked, and there was a green stain on the calico. Soberly she knew that she should be helping Ma, and she hurried to the little dark tar-paper shanty.
“It’s tiger-striped,” she said to Ma.
“What is, Laura?” Ma asked, looking up startled. She was putting her books on the bottom shelves of the whatnot.
“This shanty,” said Laura. “Striped with yellow lath on the tar paper.”
“Tigers are yellow with black stripes,” Mary objected.
“You girls unpack your boxes now,” said Ma. “We’ll arrange all our pretty things on these upper shelves.”
On the shelf above the books there was room for Mary’s and Laura’s and Carrie’s little glass boxes. Each box had frosted flowers on its side and colored flowers on the lid. The three made that shelf all bright and gay.
Ma stood the clock on the fourth shelf. Its brown wooden case spread up in a carved lacy pattern from its round glass face, and behind glass painted with gilt flowers its brass pendulum wagged to and fro, tick-tock, tick-tock.
On the smallest, very top shelf above the clock, Laura set her white china jewel box with the tiny gold cup and saucer on its top, and Carrie put beside it her brown-and-white china dog.
“It’s very pretty, I’m sure,” Ma approved. “When the door is shut, the whatnot quite dresses up the room. Now for the china shepherdess.” Then she looked around quickly and exclaimed, “Mercy! Is my bread-sponge risen already?”
The bread-sponge was lifting the lid of the pan. Ma hurriedly floured the breadboard, and kneaded the dough. Then she got dinner. She was putting the pan of light biscuits in the oven when Pa came driving the wagon up the hill. Behind him the wagon box was piled high with willow brush that he had brought for summer fuel, for there were no real trees at Lake Henry.
“Hello, Flutterbudget! Let dinner wait, Caroline!” he called. “I’ve got something to show you as soon as I picket the team.”
Quickly he slipped the harness off the horses and dumped it across the wagon tongue. He hurried the horses away to their picket ropes, and came hurrying back. Then he lifted a horse blanket from the front of the wagon box.
“There you are, Caroline!” he beamed. “I covered them so they wouldn’t dry out in the wind.”
“What, Charles?” Ma and Laura craned to see into the wagon box, and Carrie climbed up the wheel. “Trees!” Ma exclaimed.
“Little trees!” Laura shouted. “Mary! Pa’s brought little trees!”
“They’re cottonwoods,” Pa said. “They all grew from seeds of the Lone Tree that we saw across the prairie when we were coming out from Brookings. It’s a giant of a tree when you get close to it. It’s seeded all along the edge of Lake Henry. I dug enough of these seedlings to make a windbreak clear around the shanty. You’re going to have your trees growing, Caroline, quick as I can get them set in the ground.”
He took his spade out of the wagon and said, “The first one’s your tree, Caroline. Pick it out and tell me where you want it.”
“Just a minute,” Ma answered. She hurried to the stove and shut its draft and set back the pot of potatoes. Then she picked out her tree. “I want it right here by the door,” she said.
With his spade, Pa cut a square in the sod and lifted the grass. He dug a hole and loosened the soft soil until it was fine and crumbly. Then carefully he lifted the little tree and carried it without shaking the earth from its roots.
“Hold the top straight, Caroline,” he said. Ma held the small tree straight by its top, while with his spade Pa sifted earth over its roots until the hole was filled. Then he stamped the earth down firmly, and stood back. “Now you can look at a tree, Caroline. Your own tree. We’ll give each one of ’em a pailful of water after dinner. But first we’ll get their roots in the ground. Come, Mary, it’s your turn next.”
Pa dug another hole in a straight line with the first. He brought another tree from the wagon, and Mary carefully held it upright while Pa planted it. That was Mary’s tree.
“Yours is next, Laura,” said Pa. “We’ll make a square windbreak, all around the house. Ma’s tree and mine by the door, and a tree for each of you girls on each side of ours.”
Laura held her tree while Pa planted it. Then Carrie held hers. The four little trees stood up straight from the patches of dark earth in the grass.
“Now Grace must have hers,” said Pa. “Where’s Grace?” He called to Ma, “Caroline, bring Grace out here to plant her tree!”
Ma looked out of the shanty. “She’s out there with you, Charles,” she said.
