Ruthie labeled the rows, and Kit wrote Aunt Millie’s advice about planting, watering, and weeding in the margins. In the “Sewing” section, Stirling drew diagrams to show how to turn sheets sides-to-middle and how to reverse cuffs. Kit wrote out the directions in easy-to-follow steps.
Almost every day there was something new to add to the Almanac. Aunt Millie taught the children how to trace a shoe on a piece of cardboard, cut it out, and put the cardboard in the shoe to cover up a hole in the bottom. She showed them how to take slivers of soap, melt them together, and mold them into new bars of soap. She also taught the children to save string, basting thread, and buttons, and to be on the lookout for glass bottles to return for the deposit.
One day, when Kit and Stirling came home from school, they saw a horse-drawn wagon parked in front of the house. It belonged to the ragman, who paid by the pound for cloth rags. Kit had always wanted to get to know the ragman’s horse, but Mother never asked the ragman to stop. She said the horse was unsanitary. Aunt Millie, however, was petting the horse and feeding it apple cores. Kit and Stirling were tickled when Aunt Millie let them feed the horse, too.
“‘My kingdom for a horse,’” said Aunt Millie, quoting Shakespeare as she petted the horse’s nose. She smiled at the ragman. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have gathered up some rags to sell you. We have some dandies.”
The ragman was very pleased by Aunt Millie’s kindness to his horse. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I wasn’t planning to come back this way next week, but for you, I will.”
Kit and Stirling exchanged a glance. Here was a typical Aunt Millie idea to put in their Almanac: save apple cores, charm the ragman, and get good money for your rags!
Saturday rolled around, and Kit was delighted when Aunt Millie announced that she and Kit would do the grocery shopping. They set forth after Kit had washed and ironed all the sheets and remade all the beds. Aunt Millie had her hat firmly fixed on her head and her shopping list, written on the back of an old envelope, firmly held in her hand. Kit skipped along next to Aunt Millie, eager and alert. She was sure to hear more good ideas for the Almanac on this shopping trip. Kit had noticed before that when she was writing about something, she had to be especially observant. Writers had to pay attention. Everything mattered.
Kit’s heart sank a little when she saw that they were headed to the butcher shop. The butcher was well known to be a stingy grouch.
“What would you like today?” he asked Kit and Aunt Millie.
Aunt Millie spoke with more of a twang than usual. “I’d like,” she said, “to know what an old Kentucky hilljack like you is doing in Cincinnati.”
Kit gasped. She was sure the butcher would be angry. It was not complimentary to call someone a “hilljack.” But Aunt Millie’s question seemed to have worked another one of her magical transformations.
Smiling, the butcher asked, “How’d you know I’m from Kentucky?”
“Because your accent’s the same as mine,” said Aunt Millie.
The butcher laughed. For a long while, he and Aunt Millie chatted and swapped jokes as if they were old friends.
“Now,” Aunt Millie said at last, “if you’ve got a soup bone and some meat scraps you could let me have for a nickel, I’ll make some of my famous soup.” She pointed to Kit. “And Margaret Mildred here will bring you a portion. How’s that?”
“It’s a deal,” said the butcher cheerfully.
As they left the butcher shop, Kit hefted the heavy parcel of meat. “Gosh, Aunt Millie,” she said. “All this for a nickel?”
“A nickel and some friendliness,” Aunt Millie said. “Works every time.” She caught Kit’s arm. “Slow down there, child. What’s your hurry?”
“Well,” said Kit, “you and the butcher talked so long, I’m afraid the grocery store will be closing when we get there.”
Aunt Millie winked. “I hope so,” she said.
Kit was confused until Aunt Millie explained, “Tomorrow’s Sunday and the store’ll be closed. So, just before closing time today, the grocer will lower the prices on things that’ll go bad by Monday.”
“Ah! I see!” said Kit.
Of course, Aunt Millie was right. The grocer was lowering the prices. Aunt Millie and Kit were able to get wonderful bargains on vegetables close to wilting, fruit that was at its ripest, and bread about to go stale. Aunt Millie bought a whole bag of day-old rolls, jelly buns, and doughnuts for a dime, a loaf of crushed bread and a box of broken cookies for a nickel each, two dented cans of peaches for six cents, and a huge bag of bruised apples for a quarter.
Kit was impressed by Aunt Millie’s money-saving cleverness. Yet for some reason, Kit squirmed. Everyone in this store must know my family’s too poor to pay full prices, she thought. Aunt Millie counted every penny of her change. When the grocer sighed impatiently and the people waiting in line craned their heads around to see what was taking so long, Kit went hot with self-consciousness.
As they walked home, Aunt Millie said, “You’re very quiet, Margaret Mildred. Where’s what Shakespeare would call my ‘merry lark’?”
Kit spoke slowly. “Aunt Millie,” she said, “do you ever feel funny about…you know…having to buy crushed bread and broken cookies and all?”
“Everything we bought’s perfectly good,” said Aunt Millie. “It may not look perfect, but none of it’s rotten or spoiled. It’ll taste fine, you’ll see.”
“I meant,” Kit faltered, “it’s…hard to be poor in front of people.”
“Being poor is nothing to be ashamed of,” said Aunt Millie stoutly, “especially these days, with so many folks in the same boat.”
Kit shook herself. How silly she was being! Of course Aunt Millie was right. Kit knew she should be proud of Aunt Millie’s thrifty ideas. Wasn’t that the whole point of the Almanac? Kit turned her thoughts to her book. Which section should I put these new grocery shopping ideas in? she wondered. “Cooking” or “Miscellaneous Savings”?
Grace
“What’ll it be?” asked Kit.
“Come downstairs,” Stirling said, smiling. “You’ll see.”
Kit finished her cleaning and then went downstairs. The front door was open. Mother, Dad, Stirling, and Aunt Millie were standing outside, gathered around a wooden crate.
Dad grinned at Aunt Millie. “You’ve outdone yourself this time,” he said.
Kit gasped. The crate was full of chickens! Live, squawking, white-feathered chickens! Kit knelt next to the crate. “Are they ours?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Aunt Millie. “I swapped for them. Remember that bag of apples? I cut out the bruises, made pies, and traded them.”
“You swapped pies for chickens?” asked Dad.
“Well, I threw in a few other things, too,” said Aunt Millie.
“Are we…are we going to eat the chickens?” asked Kit, who had already fallen in love with the fat, noisy, cluck-cluck-clucking birds.
“Heavens no!” said Aunt