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Writer's pictureLinda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
Sep 160 min read

Excerpted Inspirations #145


[During a week when his parents are away, Almanzo Wilder quarrels with his sister and experiences a foreshadowing of the miracle of sin being washed away.] “You just wait, Almanzo James Wilder! You just wait till I tell Moth –” Almanzo didn’t mean to throw the blacking-brush. It flew right out of his hand. It sailed past Eliza Jane’s head. Smack! it hit the parlor wall. A great splash and smear of blacking appeared on the white-and-gold wall-paper. Alice screamed. Almanzo turned around and ran all the way to the barn. He climbed into the haymow and crawled far back into the hay. He did not cry, but he would have cried if he hadn’t been almost ten years old. Mother would come home and find he had ruined her beautiful parlor. Father would take him into the woodshed and whip him with the blacksnake whip. He didn’t want ever to come out of the haymow. He wished he could stay there forever. After a long while Royal came into the haymow and called him. He came out of the hay, and he saw that Royal knew. “Mannie, you’ll get an awful whipping,” Royal said. Royal was sorry, but he couldn’t do anything. They both knew that Almanzo deserved whipping, and there was no way to keep Father from knowing it. So Almanzo said: “I don’t care.” [...] [Their parents come home and their mother praises the children for how well they kept house.] She did not know that the black splotch was on the parlor wall. The parlor door was shut. She did not know it that day, nor all the next day. Almanzo could hardly choke down his food at mealtimes, and Mother looked worried. She took him to the pantry and made him swallow a big spoonful of horrible black medicine she had made from roots and herbs. He did not want her to know about the black splotch, and yet he wished she did know. When the worst was over he could stop dreading it. That second evening they heard a buggy driving into the yard. Mr. and Mrs. Webb were in it. Father and Mother went out to meet them and in a minute they all came into the dining-room. Almanzo heard Mother saying: “Come right into the parlor!” He couldn’t move. He could not speak. This was worse than anything he had thought of. Mother was so proud of her beautiful parlor. She was so proud of keeping it always nice. She didn’t know he had ruined it, and now she was taking company in. They would see that big black splotch on the wall. Mother opened the parlor door and went in. Mrs. Webb went in, and Mr. Webb and Father. Almanzo saw only their backs, but he heard the window-shades going up. He saw that the parlor was full of light. It seemed to him a long time before anybody said anything. Then Mother said, “Take this big chair, Mr. Webb, and make yourself comfortable. Sit right here on the sofa, Mrs. Webb.” Almanzo couldn’t believe his ears. Mrs. Webb said: “You have such a beautiful parlor, I declare it’s almost too fine to sit in.” Now Almanzo could see where the blacking-brush had hit the wall, and he could not believe his eyes. The wall-paper was pure white and gold. There was no black splotch. Mother caught sight of him and said: “Come in, Almanzo.” Almanzo went in. He sat up straight on a haircloth chair and pushed his toes against the floor to keep from sliding off. Father and Mother were telling all about the visit to Uncle Andrew’s. There was no black splotch anywhere on the wall. “Didn’t you worry, leaving the children alone here and you so far away?” Mrs. Webb asked. “No,” Mother said, proudly. “I knew the children would take care of everything as well as if James and I were home.” Almanzo minded his manners and did not say a word. Next day, when no one was looking, he stole into the parlor. He looked carefully at the place where the black splotch had been. The wall-paper was patched. The patch had been cut out carefully around the gold scrolls, and the pattern was fitted perfectly and the edges of the patch scraped so thin that he could hardly find them. He waited until he could speak to Eliza Jane alone, and then he asked: “Eliza Jane, did you patch the parlor wall-paper for me?” “Yes,” she said. “I got the scraps of wall-paper that were saved in the attic, and cut out the patch and put it on with flour-paste.” Almanzo said, gruffly: “I’m sorry I threw that brush at you. Honest, I didn’t mean to, Eliza Jane.” “I guess I was aggravating,” she said. “But I didn’t mean to be. You’re the only little brother I’ve got.” Almanzo had never known before how much he liked Eliza Jane. They never, never told about the black splotch on the wall-paper, and Mother never knew. Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farmer Boy (1933), pp. 120-121, 123-127

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