Today is Saturday.
I am going to read another book in my list, Sarah, Plain and Tall.
Caleb asked me if mother had sung every day. He sat close to the fire and our dog lay beside him on the warm hearthstones. My answer was yes. I told him for the second time this week, the twentieth time this month, the hundredth time this year. He asked if Papa had sung before. The answer was yes too. Mother died just the next day after Caleb was born. Mother handed him to me and said,"Isn't he beautiful, Anna?" Caleb always asked me to tell him that familiar story. At first, I think he was horrible. It took me three whole days to love him. When I was cooking, Papa came back. He told us something about the weather and our horse. And then he told us he had posted an advertisement on the newspaper. We didn't need a housekeeper. But Papa asked us whether we wanted to have a mother again. And then he read us a answer letter from a lady, Sarah. It was a long silence until I put my arms around Caleb and said,"Ask her if she sings."
