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THE INN AT SAND CASTLE BEACH
ALOHA SERIES BOOK 1
CORAL HARPER
 STAY CONNECTED

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Copyright © 2021 by Tilted Palm Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission
from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses,
places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination
or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
20 Years Later

CONTINUE READING!
Lighthouse Letters
The Nantucket Estate
Christmas at the Bay
Also by Coral Harper
Stay Connected!
 CHAPTER 1

T here was no other place in the world quite like Sandcastle

Beach on the island of Maui. It was my favorite place to
visit in the whole universe. There were no words to describe the
haunting beauty of the sea, nor the rich history written into the very
land.
The dark, almost black sand contrasted sharply against the
pristine blue waves of the ocean, backed by luscious green palm
trees and sprawling hills up the mountainside. There was nothing
quite like being able to rise with the golden morning sun and count
the surfers out on their boards catching the day’s first waves.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “You know we have beaches back in
California, right?”
My older sister flipped the page of her copy of Seventeen
Magazine. She always thought she was so cool, reading things
meant for older girls even though she was in middle school just like
me.
“Los Angeles is too loud and noisy,” I reasoned, continuing to
stare out our bedroom window. We were spending the summer at
Dad’s beach house in Hawaii. I could spot a little crab scuttling
parallel to the water, a seagull giving chase. “There’s something
magical about this place. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
Sophie rolled her eyes again. I swore her eyes were going to get
stuck one of these days. “You’re such a baby,” she teased. “There’s
no such thing as magic.”
I took offense to this. Ever since my sister turned ten, she’s
made it her personal responsibility to point out all the ‘childish’
things that I like. My Barbie dolls, the fact that I still talk to my
imaginary best friend —Ginger, Space Cowgirl Extraordinaire— or the
fact that I always ask Dad to cut the crust off my grilled cheese
sandwiches.
“Don’t call me a baby,” I huffed. “You’re still afraid of the dark,
and just last week you wet the bed—”
“I did not.”
“Did, too!”
Sophie groaned. “Dad!” she shouted, voice carrying out of our
shared bedroom and down the hall. “Kay’s picking on me again!”
“She started it!”
“Be nice to each other, girls,” Dad replied from downstairs in the
kitchen. “I’m just on the phone, sweethearts. Can you keep it down
a bit, please?”
Sophie and I muttered a quick and genuine, “Sorry, Dad,” before
my sister turned away from me with a huff, practically shoving her
face into her magazine to ignore me.
I turned away to ignore her, too. She could sulk all she wanted. I
had plans, and her sour mood wasn’t going to get in the way of my
fun. Noah, the boy who lived just down the street, invited me the
other day to play on the beach. The weather was perfect —nice and
sunny, but not scalding hot— so I grabbed my baseball cap from off
the end post of my bed and skipped down the hall to go downstairs.
 Pictures of me, Sophie, and Dad line the wall adjacent to the
stairs. My favorite’s the one where we went to Disneyland in front of
Splash Mountain. Sophie wound up getting soaked through, but she
was nothing but smiles in the picture because Dad felt bad and
spoiled us with massive mouse-shaped ice cream bars.
Dad was in the kitchen, seated on one of the bar stools in front
of the kitchen island. He had his laptop open, a spreadsheet lighting
up the screen. I didn’t really understand what he did for work.
Something with lots of numbers and math —my least favorite school
subject in the entire world. He had his phone wedged between his
ear and his shoulder, speaking in a hushed tone as he typed away on
his laptop.
“Linda, you promised,” he said under his breath before coughing
into the crook of his elbow. “No, the girls are— I understand, but I’m
just saying they could really benefit from meeting you.” He sighed
heavily, coughing again. “Linda, listen to me. Sophie and Kay are—”
“Dad?”
He turned in his seat, startled. Dad didn’t look upset that I was
interrupting, though he did put his hand over the phone’s receiver.
“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?”
“Can I go visit Noah today?” I asked. “We’re going treasure
hunting.”
He chuckled, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “Sure. As
long as you bring your sister with you. And you have to be back in
time for dinner.”
I crossed my arms. The idea of Sophie tagging along was so
lame. “Do I have to bring her?”
“Yes, sweetheart. You’re not old enough to go wandering out on
your own.”
“I’m seven. I’m almost a teenager.”
 Dad smiled softly. “I know, I know. Don’t grow up too fast,
okay?”
“So can I go by myself?”
“No. Bring your sister, please. It’d make me feel more
comfortable. Do it for me?”
I rolled my eyes. I could never bring myself to say no to him.
“Fine.”
“Go on,” he said, patting me on the back before returning to his
call. “Linda? Sorry about that. Yes, that was Kay. Did you want to
talk to—”
I stopped listening, bounding back up the stairs, calling, “Sophie!
Sophie!”
“Ugh, what?”
“Dad says you have to come with me.”
My sister turned her nose up at me. “Why?”
“He says I can’t go out by myself.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
I pouted. “I’m going to see Noah, you know.”
“So?”
“Jack’s probably going to be there. Noah said he’d be, anyways.”
Sophie’s ears perked up, though she continued to read the exact
same article she was reading not ten minutes before. “Oh?” she
said, like she was disinterested.
It was no secret that Sophie had a huge crush on Jack, another
boy who lived down the street from us. He was actually Noah’s next-
door neighbor, which I supposed made us all next-door neighbors.
Jack was a year older than Sophie, and Noah was nine. I was the
youngest of the group, which they all felt the need to point out at
every single opportunity.
 I personally thought she needed to get her eyes checked, but
that was just me.
“Are you going to tell Jack you love him?” I asked.
Sophie’s face turned bright red. “What? I don’t—”
“I read your diary. I saw you wrote his name, like, a million times
in there. You totally want to marry him.”
My sister slapped her magazine closed and hissed, “Don’t you
dare read my diary again.”
“Then you shouldn’t leave it in such an obvious place!”
“You shouldn’t be searching for it to begin with.”
“Look, stuffing it between your undies in your underwear drawer
isn’t the best place to put it.”
“Ew. Don’t go looking through my undies, you weirdo.”
“Come with me!” I begged, hopping up and down impatiently. “I
want to go play with Noah. Please, please, please, please, please?”
“Ugh, why are you so annoying?”
“Come with me and I won’t tell Jack about your gross crush,” I
said, singing the last word. It was always such a joy to tease Sophie
like this, especially when she looked like she wanted to punch me.
She wouldn’t actually, because she knew I’d cry and Dad would
ground her.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But you better not say a word,
understand?”
I jumped in place, excited. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. Last one
there’s a rotten egg.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Sophie, ever the competitive sister, shot up
out of her bed and dashed right past me. We raced downstairs,
jumping from the fourth bottom step to the floor.
“Bye, Dad!” I called from the front door as I pulled on my
sneakers.
 “See you later,” Sophie said.
Dad waved, mildly distracted by whoever he was talking to. “Be
good, you two. Dinner will be ready at six. And don’t talk to
strangers.”
“We know,” Sophie and I said in unison.
“I love you,” Dad called after us.
“Love you, too,” we shouted over our shoulders as we ran
through the front door and onto the porch.
The scent of salty ocean water and earthy tropical plants filled
my nose the second I stepped outside, a refreshing summer breeze
whispering past us. The promise of adventure made the tips of my
fingers tingle. Our little corner of Maui was a dream compared to our
cramped suburban neighborhood back in Los Angeles. There were
endless possibilities here. Freedom and space.
I would stay here forever if I could.
Sophie and I walked along the service road. Dad’s beach house
was a little ways away from the Kahului, where the majority of
tourists arrived from Honolulu to vacation. I liked that we were far
from the city. There was a Walmart and a Costco, but those were
things I was used to back in California. Sandcastle Beach was a lot
more secluded and beautiful, a secret spot that only a handful knew
about.
That’s what made it so special, I think.
Noah didn’t live directly next to the beach like we did. Instead,
his house was perched on a wide plateau overlooking a steep cliff
over the ocean. His family had apparently lived there for years,
slowly but surely carving out a path descending down the jagged
cliffside to get to the water. Noah said that he was born here in
Hawaii, though he wasn’t a native to the island. That wasn’t the case
for Jack, though.
 From what I understood, Jack’s family had lived on Maui for
centuries, dating all the way back to when their ancestors first
arrived on the islands. I didn’t like him very much, mostly because
he was even bossier than Sophie. I got the sense that he didn’t like
me very much either. He probably thought I was just another bratty
kid.
We saw them out by Noah’s front lawn, tossing a football back
and forth. Noah was easily recognizable, what with his bright blond
hair and blue eyes. He had incredibly fair skin and burned easily
under the tropical sun, so I wasn’t surprised to see that his face,
arms, and legs were slathered in coconut-scented sunscreen.
Jack had a darker complexion, almost a golden brown. His
shaggy black hair stopped at just above his shoulders, a pair of
Raybans covering his dark brown eyes. The boys were both dressed
in simple tank tops and khaki shorts, barefoot on the grass.
Noah dropped what he was doing the second he saw Sophie and
me round the corner.
“About time you guys got here,” he said, flashing his crooked
grin. “I thought you were going to bail.”
“Sorry,” I replied, skipping over. “Sophie kept dragging me down.
You know how much of a slowpoke she is.”
My sister scoffed as she swatted at a bug flying past her head.
“Am not. I just hate walking up the hill.”
“You’re out of shape.”
“Shut up, weirdo.”
Jack didn’t say hello, but I didn’t expect him to. He just turned
the football around in his hands, towering over the rest of us. He
was a good foot taller than Sophie. Dad liked to say he would sprout
up like bamboo once puberty hit, but I had no idea what puberty
was.
 “You said you found a treasure map?” I asked, prompting Noah.
He reached into his back pocket for something. “Wait until you
get a load of this.”
 CHAPTER 2

N oah produced a folded piece of parchment from his back

pocket. It had turned yellow from sun exposure, the
corners either ripped or mildly burned. He carefully unfolded it,
revealing a minimalistic map. It had been opened and closed so
many times that it looked like it was two seconds away from falling
apart at its fold lines.
“I found this in my attic yesterday,” Noah explained. “It was in
this small bottle in the bottom of one of my grandfather’s old scuba
diving duffles.”
“Why were you snooping through his stuff?” Sophie asked.
“My mom wants to do a garage sale to make space. I was going
to try and find some interesting stuff to sell, but that’s not what’s
important here. What is important is that I think this leads to buried
treasure.”
Excitement rose from my chest and lodged in my throat, making
me squeal, “What do you think it is?”
“I asked my grandma about it. Apparently there’s an old local
legend about a bitter sea captain who was on the run from the
Dutch East India Company. He used to work for them, trading silks
and other goods to other countries. One day, he was tasked with the
safe shipment of an old aristocrat’s heirlooms to his home in the
Caribbean. When the sea captain saw what was listed on the
manifest, he abandoned his crew somewhere in Spain before sailing
all the way here to stash the items.”
I was enthralled, hanging off of Noah’s every word. I adored
everything to do with pirates and sea battles and sunken treasure.
There was just something about the swashbuckling life that thrilled
me to no end. I wanted to be a pirate, out there on the high seas
commanding an entire fleet, hopping from island to island under a
black flag that struck fear into the hearts of my enemies. I wanted
to swing from mast to mast on ropes and get into sword fights and
collect bountiful treasure to spend on mountains of ice cream.
“What was it?” I asked, practically vibrating out of my skin.
“A bottle full of some sort of magic potion.”
Jack scoffed. “This is so stupid.”
I frowned at his comment but chose to ignore him. “What does
the magic potion do?”
“According to my grandma, it’s supposed to grant a wish to
whoever drinks it. All you need is to take a single sip for your
greatest desires to come true.”
“What’s it look like? How will we know when we’ve found it?”
“Grandma says it’s the color of the rainbow. Super shiny and
swirling and stuff. Trust me, we’ll know when we see it. Magic’s kind
of unpredictable that way.”
Sophie also scoffed, mimicking Jack’s crossed arms. “That’s the
dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no such thing as—”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re a non-
believer.” I turned back to Noah and asked, “What else did your
grandma say?”
 “The bitter old sea captain took a few sips of the potion, wishing
that he could disappear and live the rest of his life in peace. That’s
how he was able to sail across the seven seas all by himself without
being caught. He supposedly found his way to Hawaii and buried the
treasure somewhere near here. He didn’t want to share the potion
with anyone else, so he drew up this map to remember where he
buried it.”
I examined the map with intense focus. I didn’t know the first
thing about cartography, but I’d seen several times on the History
Channel that people made a living out of treasure hunting. Maybe
this could be my start. Nothing quite like launching a treasure
hunting business than making a score at the tender age of seven!
Forget the potion, I was going to be a worldwide sensation.
Maybe I’d get a book deal or a TV show based on my life. That’d
be pretty cool.
“Where should we start?” I asked, rubbing my hands together.
“We have to get there before someone else does. We need to call
dibs.”
Noah tapped a part of the map. “Doesn’t this look like Ikaika
Creek just up the way?”
“It does. Should we start there?”
“Hold on,” Sophie interrupted. “You can’t be serious, Kay. This is
clearly some made-up story. This map doesn’t even look real.”
I pouted my lips. “How would you know what a real map looks
like?”
Jack took the map from Noah and inspected the back. “This
clearly says that it was made in China—”
Noah snatched the map back and took my hand, dragging me
away with great urgency. “Come on! Before someone gets to it
before we can!”
 I giggled, ignoring Sophie’s pleas for me to come back. She was
crazy if she’d thought I’d pass up an opportunity like this one. As
Noah and I climbed down the path along the cliff facing toward the
beach, I daydreamed about all the things I would wish for once we
found the potion. The endless possibilities made my head swirl.
“I’m going to wish for a unicorn,” I said aloud. “I want to ride it
all day long. And if other people want to ride it, they have to pay me
a whole dollar.”
Noah whistled. “That’s really smart.”
My cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thanks, but do you think
that’s not charging enough?”
“I’d charge five bucks per ride,” he said, “but that’s just me.”
“That’s a little steep, isn’t it?”
“We’re businessmen, Kay. We’ve got to be smart about this.”
I snorted. “What’s with this ‘we’ business? Get your own unicorn.”
Noah continued to hold my hand as we made our way down the
path. There was a tricky spot near the bottom where it cut off
abruptly. I was too short to make the step without falling, so I had
to cling to the edge as I lowered myself down to the next section of
the path. I almost stumbled, but luckily Noah was there to keep me
from falling.
“Why was the sea captain bitter?” I asked as we continued
toward the creek. “You’d think someone who could have all their
wishes granted would be happy, right?”
Noah shrugged, holding the map up to gather his bearings. “I’m
not sure.”
“Do you think it’s one of those things where you can make a
wish, but there’s a catch? Like, what if you’re allowed to make a
wish, but it ages you a year each time you take a sip?”
“I don’t know. I guess we won’t know until we find it.”
 “We’ll have to check the label carefully,” I noted.
We made it to the beach, the creek in question not too far off. I
kept as far away from the water as possible, making good on my
promise to Dad. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see how far
behind Sophie and Jack were. They were dragging us down, but at
least they were tagging along. It was hard not to notice the way
Sophie kept trying to talk to Jack, standing a bit too close or
laughing a little too loud. Jack didn’t help Sophie down the drop the
way Noah did for me.
It was nice to know one of them was a gentleman.
Ikaika Creek trickled out from a thick underbrush, sweeping past
the very end of the beach to join the ocean. It wasn’t anything to
write home about, but it looked to be the same shape as the line
drawn on Noah’s map. The bitter old sea captain traced a walking
path from the creek to the center of the beach, leaving symbols and
markings everywhere.
“What do you think they mean?” I asked.
“Maybe they’re clues. Or riddles we have to decipher?”
I groaned. “Why couldn’t he have just written down step-by-step
instructions?”
Noah chuckled. “Then it’d be too easy for someone to find his
things.”
“Fair, that’s fair.”
“Let’s go this way.”
“Did you bring a shovel?” I inquired. “If it’s under the sand, we’re
going to need to dig it up.”
“Ah, no. I forgot to bring one. Can’t we just use our hands?”
“What if it’s buried six feet under? We’d tear our fingers right off.”
“You’re right. Let’s just focus on finding it first. Then we can
excavate later.”
 “Sounds like a plan.”
Just as Sophie and Jack caught up to us, Noah and I dashed off
with renewed purpose. I heard my sister groan, “Kids.” I almost
rolled my eyes at her. She was a kid, too. I was starting to get
annoyed with her high and mighty attitude. She always said that I
was being annoying, but maybe she needed to take a good hard
look in the mirror and realize that the problem was actually her.
Whatever.
When Noah and I found the potion, maybe I’d wish for my sister
to disappear. Just for a little bit, of course. To teach her a lesson.
We spent the better part of the day searching. It was endless,
with no signs of treasure in sight. This map looked to be centuries
old, so it wouldn’t have been hard to believe that some of the
landmarks that were drawn on had long since been removed. I was
sure the bitter old sea captain didn’t take into account that Maui
would turn into such a tourist attraction. The land had been
developed, transformed over the years, rendering the map out of
date.
It was also very possible that someone could have found his
treasure before we got to it. It wasn’t that hard to believe. I often
looked out my window to find weird retired couples in colorful
Hawaiian shirts scouring Sandcastle Beach with these really weird
machines —metal detectors, according to Dad— looking for lost
items beneath the black sand. Could someone have beaten us to the
punch?
The thought was discouraging, but Noah and I didn’t give up.
We tried digging holes in several different places. Sophie and
Jack didn’t lend us a hand, choosing instead to sit off to the side and
watch Noah and I put our backs into it.
“When we find it,” I said, “we’re not sharing our booty with you.”
 Sophie snorted. “Whatever. You’re such a weirdo, right Jack?”
Jack shrugged, allowing sand to slip between his fingers with a
general air of disinterest.
Ugh. They were so boring. If this was what it was like to be all
grown up, I wanted to be a kid forever. What was the point about
being all adult-like if you couldn’t enjoy yourself and have a bit of
fun?
It wasn’t long before Noah and I tuckered ourselves out. My skin
was turning a light pink from being out in the sun. I should have
applied more sunscreen before I left. Either way, I was exhausted by
the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around. The sun hadn’t set over the
horizon just yet, but I could tell by the orange and pink it cast into
the skies above that Sophie and I needed to head home soon.
“Well, that was a waste of a day,” Sophie grumbled.
“Oh, quit whining,” I snapped back. “You found a bunch of pretty
shells to make jewelry with, so I don’t know why you’re
complaining.”
“Do you want to try again tomorrow?” Noah asked me. “I have a
feeling we’re really close. I can ask my grandma for more
information. Maybe we need more clues.”
I nodded. “Okay. And I’ll be sure to bring a shovel this time. And
some extra sunscreen.”
“Good call. I’m going to look like a lobster by the time I get
home.”
Jack sighed. “Noah. Let’s go.”
We said our goodbyes and parted ways, Sophie and I taking the
exact same route back. Even though the climate was tropical, the
nighttime air always brought with it a chill from off the oceanfront. I
shivered as we hiked, rubbing my arms to warm up.
 “What do you think Dad’s going to make for dinner?” I asked
Sophie.
“Beats me.”
“I hope he makes macaroni and hotdogs.”
“Again?”
I sneered. “What? It’s my favorite.”
“It’s all you eat. You’re going to get fat.”
“So?”
“Noah isn’t going to like you if you get fat.”
I frowned. “Why would I care what Noah thinks?”
“Oh, please. It’s so obvious you like him.”
“He’s just my friend,” I insisted.
“Boys and girls can never be ‘just friends.’”
“Did you read that in your stupid magazine?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Well, you’re magazines stupid. And who cares if I get fat?
There’s nothing wrong with having curves. Why don’t you write to
Seventeen and tell them that, hm?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I huffed. “I’m going to tell Dad you called me dumb.”
“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth. That’s not what I—”
I ran up ahead of her, irritated. Our beach house was in sight.
Sophie had been a stick in the mud all day, so I didn’t feel bad in the
slightest if I got her in trouble. I bounded up the front steps of the
porch, Sophie yelling at me the whole time to slow down.
Once through the front doors, I searched for Dad in the kitchen
where we’d left him. There was a casserole dish full of macaroni and
hotdogs cooling on the stovetop.
“Dad! Sophie said that I was du—” I froze as I rounded the
kitchen island, startled to find Dad collapsed on the floor. He wasn’t
moving. “Dad?”
Sophie gasped, hand clasped over her mouth. “Oh my God. Oh
my God, is he—”
She didn’t finish her sentence. Sophie ran straight to the phone
in the living room and dialed 911. “I-I need an ambulance,” she said
shakily into the receiver. “It’s my father. He’s n-not—”
I crouched down and shook Dad’s shoulder, but received no
response.
 CHAPTER 3

D r. Kekeo was a nice lady. She had wild black curls, made
voluminous by the humidity. Her thick-rimmed glasses
made her eyes look massive, almost bug-like. She wore a colorful
red dress beneath her clinical doctor’s lab coat, along with a pair of
sensible white sneakers to match. I remembered her telling Sophie
and me that she’d been with the Maui Medical Center for several
years and that if we needed anything we could ask her.
But I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too stunned to cry or
be angry or confused. Sophie did all the talking, and I was
surprisingly grateful. I remained quiet, seated at Dad’s bedside,
listening to the rhythmic beeps and whirs of all the machines that he
was hooked up to. I didn’t understand what any of them did. All I
knew was that Dad needed to rely on them for now.
He looked how he normally did. Pale. Tired. There was some sort
of see-through mask over his nose and mouth —“To make sure he
gets enough oxygen,” Sophie explained— and there were several
wires banding over his chest. There was some sort of clothespin-like
contraption pinching his left forefinger, too, a red light inside making
his skin glow the same color. I wasn’t sure what that thing did,
either.
 I didn’t like the smell of the hospital. Too sterile. Too flat. The
fluorescent light over our heads made my eyes hurt, too. It made
Dad look unnaturally gray. I wanted to carry him outside so that he
could soak up the sun, not wither away within the faded pistachio-
green walls of his hospital room.
I think it was the sounds of the hospital that freaked me out the
most. I could hear crying somewhere off in the distance. Was
someone else’s loved one stuck in here, too? The halls were a maze
and the AC made everything uncomfortably cold. The whole place
felt haunted. I didn’t like it here one bit.
Dr. Kekeo always bent down when she spoke to us, making sure
to be at eye level. “Do you understand what cancer is, Kay?”
I shook my head numbly. “No.”
Sophie took my hand and gave my fingers a squeeze. She looked
to the doctor with a polite smile. “I don’t think she’s learned about
cells in school yet.”
Dr. Kekeo nodded. “Understandable. How do I explain this?” She
clicked her tongue, tapping the tip of her pen against the clipboard
she was holding. “Our body is made up of these tiny things called
cells. They help us do all sorts of things. They’re what keeps us
alive.”
I listened and tried to understand as best I could.
This was overwhelming.
“What does this have to do with Dad?”
“The cells in your father’s body… They didn’t grow quite right.
They’re, um… They’re sick, I guess is the best way to put it. His cells
are sick, and they’re making him sick, too.”
I frowned. “Don’t you have any medicine that you can give to
him?”
 Dr. Kekeo’s expression fell, although her eyes weren’t
unsympathetic. “We’re going to do everything we can, Kay. I
promise. But…”
“What? What is it?”
She took a deep breath. “It looks like your father’s been sick for a
really long time. There’s only so much that our medicines can do.
We’re obviously going to do our best, of course.”
“But he hasn’t been acting sick,” I protested. “Test him again.
Maybe you made a mistake. That can happen sometimes, right?”
“Kay,” Sophie warned. “Calm down. She’s just trying to help.
She’s a doctor. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”
I glared down at my shoes. I knew my sister was right and I
hated her for it. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just wanted to make sure.”
Dr. Kekeo smiled and shook it off easily. “Your father’s going to
have to stay with us at the hospital for a little while. He was awake a
little while ago. He informed us that your uncle will be flying here
from Los Angeles to take you home.”
Sophie perked up. “Uncle James is coming?”
“Yes. He’ll be here tomorrow morning, or so I’m told.”
“But Dad’s right here,” I argued. “I don’t want to go back home.
Dad said we’d stay here all summer.”
“I’m sorry, Kay, but you need a grown-up to look after you. And it
looks like your mother—”
“We don’t have one,” Sophie said sharply.
“Oh, uh… Right. So that’s where your Uncle James comes in.
He’ll be taking care of you until your father’s feeling better.”
I liked Uncle James. He wasn’t actually Dad’s brother, just a really
close family friend. Dad and Uncle James had apparently grown up
together. They went to the same college and even worked for the
same company after school for a little while. He didn’t live in
Northern California like we did, choosing instead to stay in Los
Angeles to be near his work. We only ever got to see him around the
holidays, though it wasn’t uncommon for Uncle James to pop by out
of the blue just to see us.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, mind swirling. This was all
so much to deal with.
Cancer. Dad’s being sick. Uncle James. Going home.
I didn’t want to go home. I loved it here too much to leave. I
squeezed my eyes shut and wished I could rewind time to yesterday
when everything was fine and my biggest problem was Sophie
secretly stealing my Barbies to try her homemade jewelry on.
And then I realized something.
A wish.
It was crazy, but it just might work. If I found the bitter old sea
captain’s magical potion, I could wish Dad to get better in an instant.
There were still sections of the beach that Noah and I hadn’t
explored yet. If we gave it another try, we might be able to find it.
The magic potion was the answer to all of our problems.
I hopped off of my seat and rushed to the door, more determined
than ever.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sophie demanded.
“Treasure hunting!” I declared. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Kay, wait. You can’t just—”
I ran off before my sister could stop me. I was on a mission.
The taxi driver seemed confused when I hopped into the back of
his vehicle, offering him some nice shiny rocks as payment for a ride
to Noah’s house. I think he took pity on me, a small girl rushing out
of a hospital all alone and all that. He wound up giving me a ride
despite my lack of actual money since Noah’s place wasn’t that far
away —a ten-minute drive, tops.
 “You alright, little miss?” he asked as we drove.
“Yes, I’m just on a mission.”
“Is that so? Sounds pretty important.”
“It is.”
“These are really safe parts, little miss, but you really shouldn’t
be out alone like this.”
I peered out the window, keeping track of where I was by
looking out for familiar landmarks. We passed the 7/11, and the fruit
stand on the outskirts of the town, and then the fallen palm tree
that Sophie and I liked to play on. We were getting closer, and the
closer we got, the more excited I became. I’d never been so
motivated.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised the taxi driver. “Trust me, I know
what I’m doing.”
The taxi pulled up to Noah’s place. I passed him the shiny rock,
which glittered purple and pink in the sunlight.
“Thank you, mister!” I said, hopping out of the vehicle without a
second glance.
I ran right up to his house and found Noah and Jack there,
kicking around a soccer ball this time. They seemed to be deep in
conversation about whatever sports team they watched play the
night before. Noah gestured with his hands a lot, speaking
enthusiastically. Jack was less demonstrative.
“I’m telling you, that goalie sucked balls,” said Noah.
“You’re just angry because your team lost.”
“That’s not true. I could probably score on that guy.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Noah! Jack!” I exclaimed, running up to them. “Let’s go find the
magic potion!”
 The urgency in my voice must have startled Noah because he
said, “What happened?”
“We have to try again,” I insisted. “We can ask around and see if
anyone else has any clues. If it’s a well-known local tale, I’m sure
your grandma isn’t the only one who knows the story. Maybe she
forgot something.”
“I don’t know. I’m really sunburnt from yesterday…”
“If we find the magic potion, you can just wish your sunburn
away.”
Noah scratched his chin. The skin was a little flaky and pink. “I
guess that’s true.”
“Are you going to help me or not?
“I mean, of course, but—”
“Let’s go, let’s go! Come on. We’re running out of time.”
Jack crossed his arms. “This again? You’re being stupid, Kay.
There’s no such thing as magic.”
Anger boiled in my stomach and engulfed my chest in flames.
“You’re wrong. Noah’s grandma said that—”
“The story his grandma told him is probably crap to keep him
busy. A magic potion that grants wishes? What are you, seven?”
I stomped my foot. “You know for a fact that I am.”
“You’re such a baby.”
I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream or throw up. I was just so
angry that it all felt the same. Overpowering and dangerous. “And
you’re a massive jerk!” I snapped.
Jack’s face blanked, taken aback. “W-what did you just call me?”
Half of me regretted calling him that. The other half of me was
kind of proud of myself. I’d heard someone on TV say that once —
the first and only time I happened to catch an episode of Maury—
and Dad warned me never to use that kind of language. It was
neither polite nor ladylike.
But right now, I didn’t feel like being either.
Right now, I needed to save my Dad.
I put my hands on my hips and stood my ground. “You and
Sophie are awful. I’m going to find that magic potion and wish for
Dad to get better. I’m going to prove all of you wrong.”
“What’s this about your dad?” Jack asked.
“He’s sick. The magic potion is my only hope.”
“Kay, I’m not telling this to you to be mean. There’s really no
such thing as—”
I turned to Noah, refusing to listen. “Are you coming or not?”
Noah kicked the soccer ball away and raced after me. “Uh, y-
yeah. I’m coming.”
 CHAPTER 4

N oah and I retraced our steps, descending down the

cliffside to the beach. The holes we dug yesterday were
still there, though some of them were full of water and seaweed
thanks to the evening tide. There was still a large stretch of the
beach that we hadn’t explored, so we spent the majority of our time
digging hole after endless hole, hoping to hear the hard clunk of our
plastic shovels against something solid beneath the sands.
“I checked with my grandma last night,” Noah said as he wiped
the sweat from his brow. “She said that she heard this story from
one of the poke vendors in town.”
“Do you think we should ask for more information?”
“It couldn’t hurt. Grandma’s got a spotty memory, so we could
learn something new.”
I stood up straight and stretched my back. The noonday sun was
beating down on us, frying my dark black hair and baking my skin. I
was sticky with sweat, and the humidity didn’t help in the slightest.
Thick, dark thunder clouds were rolling in from the distance, though
they looked to be a ways away for now. That was Later Me’s
problem to deal with.
 Noah and I walked into town. It wasn’t really a town, per se, just
a small collection of shop vendors and food stalls near the more
touristy areas that sold bottles of sand and puka shell necklaces at
ridiculously high prices. My family and I had been coming here long
enough that they recognized us and no longer felt the need to try
and sell their little trinkets.
We walked straight up to Sleepy Mal’s, a big man with his hair
pulled up into a bun and tribal tattoos down his big arms. He owned
the poke stall in question, slicing up all kinds of fresh fish to sell over
rice and diced vegetables. The reason the locals called him Sleepy
Mal was because he had one lazy eye. I personally didn’t think it was
very nice.
“Ah, little Noah and Kay,” Sleep Mal said with a wide smile, “what
can I do you for this fine day?”
I put my hands on the edge of his stall and stood up on my toes,
pushing Noah’s map onto the counter. “Can you tell us about this
map?” I asked.
Sleepy Mal arched a curious brow, sagely stroking his chin.
“Goodness. I haven’t seen a treasure map around these parts in
ages. Where’d you find this, little ones?”
Noah puffed his chest out with pride. “I found it! Grandma told
me it belonged to the sea captain who stole from the Dutch East
India Company.”
“Ah, this old thing. Yes, that’s quite the legend. My own grandma
used to tell me about his great adventures all the time.”
I held my breath. “So it’s true? Did he really come here to hide
his treasure?”
“You bet, little one. Hid it on this very island all by himself.”
I frowned. “But we’ve been looking for it all day and haven’t
found anything.”
 Sleepy Mal chuckled, tapping the map with his giant forefinger.
“Have you ever considered that maybe you’ve been looking at the
map upside down? Where’s the compass, hm?”
I gawked. He was right. Noah and I only thought to check out
the beach area closest to his house. I swirled the map around and
looked at the drawing from a different angle, studying it hard.
“We should have been looking around the beach closest to my
house,” I realized aloud.
Sleepy Mal tapped his forehead. “Sometimes all it takes is a new
perspective of things.”
“Thank you very much for the help.”
“You’re welcome, Kay. But before you go, may I ask why you’re
so dead set on finding the sea captain’s treasure?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, an uneasy gurgling stewing in my
stomach. “Dad’s in the hospital,” I said quietly. “I want to find the
captain’s treasure so I can wish him better.”
Sleepy Mal’s expression fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I
thought this was just a game. If that’s the case, you should know
that there’s not actually any—”
I snapped up the treasure map and hurried away, no longer
listening. “Come on, Noah! We’re burning daylight!”
We headed back toward my house. It was starting to get really
windy, the storm clouds encroaching slowly from the horizon. I didn’t
let it bother me. We still had plenty of time to treasure hunt. Now
that we knew we were looking on the proper end of the beach, I
was sure Noah and I would find it this time.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Noah said as we started digging
again.
“Don’t be,” I replied, getting to work on a new hole. This looked
to be the right spot. “I’m going to fix everything, just you wait and
see.”
We spent the next few hours digging. My sneakers were filled
with tiny rocks and sand grains. My hands began to blister, the rough
handle of my small plastic shovel biting into my palm. The skin of my
face and exposed arms started to burn under the searing heat of the
sun, and to make matters even worse, fat raindrops started to fall as
the winds picked up speed.
My arms ached from all the digging. I’d passed the point of
exhaustion, the soreness seeping into my bones and mind like a
heavyweight. The only reason I kept going was because of my
desperation, which only grew and grew with every empty hole we
dug up. I pressed my cracking lips into a fine line and dealt with the
pain. There was no way I was going to go back to that hospital
empty-handed. Dad was counting on me.
We still hadn’t found anything by the time the storm hit.
“We need to go inside,” Noah shouted over the boom of distant
thunder.
“We can’t give up yet!” I snapped back.
“Kay, we can’t keep going in this weather.”
“But we’re close, I can feel it!”
“Kay. Stop. This isn’t fun anymore.”
“Fun?” I wailed. “This isn’t supposed to be fun, Noah.”
“Look, the map’s fake, alright? I lied. I just wanted to play a
game. Ever heard of pretending? It was just some dumb story
grandma made up. You know that, don’t you?”
I froze, the sinking feeling deep in my gut threatening to swallow
me whole. I dropped my shovel, a soft sob bubbling past my lips.
The more I fought against the sting in my eyes, the more pressure
built up inside my skull. I didn’t want to cry in front of Noah because
that’d be so embarrassing. I did, anyways, sniffling and hiccuping
and getting sand in my eyes when I tried to wipe away my tears.
We retreated to my house since it was closer. Lightning cracked
overhead, shaking the frame of the house. I wasn’t worried, though.
This place was my shelter. It would protect me through the worst of
storms.
Noah tried to comfort me as best he could, wrapping me up in a
throw blanket he found on the couch. He went to the kitchen, too,
pulling open the fridge door to find something for us to eat. He
wound up grabbing the pitcher of lemonade on the bottom shelf,
instead. Neither of us particularly knew how to cook. He poured me
a glass, but I wasn’t thirsty.
“Don’t cry, Kay,” he said gently. “It’s going to be alright.”
“You don’t know that,” I whimpered. My nose was all stuffed up
and my cheeks were hot. “What if he doesn’t get better? What’s
going to happen to me and Sophie? I want Dad to get better.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“I’m scared, Noah. I didn’t even know he was sick.” I choked on
a sob. “Does this mean I’m a bad daughter? I should have noticed,
right? He was always coughing. I thought it was allergies.”
What happened next took me by surprise. Noah leaned over and
kissed me on the cheek. He didn’t seem to mind that my face was all
salty from crying.
“My mom says that pretty girls shouldn’t cry,” he said simply.
“You think I’m pretty?” I asked, butterflies in my stomach
fluttering like crazy.
Noah nodded. “Look, we can’t do anything now, but we can
always try looking for the magic potion tomorrow. We’re both tired
and we need a break. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give up.”
“You’re not?”
 “No. I’ll help you find the captain’s treasure no matter what.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Thanks, Noah.
You’re the best.”
“What are friends for?”
All of a sudden, there was a loud knocking at the front door. It
was incessant and frantic. Whoever was out there was pounding
their fists, clearly eager to get our attention.
“Noah?” came a woman’s voice. “Kay? Are you two in there?”
He hopped up from the couch and rushed over, opening the door.
“Mom?”
His mother took a step inside, relief washing over her expression.
She had on a bright yellow poncho, though it didn’t look super
effective against the downpour. “There you are,” she breathed. “Do
you have any idea how worried I was about the both of you?”
“How did you know we were here?” Noah asked.
“Jack told his mother, who told me. What were you thinking,
venturing off like?”
“Sorry.”
Noah’s mom looked at me, sympathy in her eyes. “I heard about
your father, Kay. I’m so sorry. I need to get you back to the hospital.
I checked in with Sophie and she’s worried to bits.”
“She is?” I asked, genuinely stunned by this revelation. “Sophie
never worries about me.”
“She said you ran off without her. Poor dear looked sick to her
stomach.”
“I was only trying to help.”
She beckoned with a crooked finger. “Come along, dear. Let’s get
you back to the hospital.”
 CHAPTER 5

I was in for a long talking to by my sister. Sophie stomped

around, wagged her finger, told me off using big fancy
words that I didn’t know the definitions of. She shouted and cried
and turned purple in the face. For once, I felt genuinely bad about
upsetting my sister. I tried to explain myself, recounting the new
information Sleepy Mal gave Noah and me about the map, but that
only seemed to anger Sophie further.
“You’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” she scolded. “That’s
rule number one, Kay!”
“Sleepy Mal isn’t a stranger. We see him all the time when we go
into town to grocery shop. He gives you free ice cream every now
and then.”
“Stop arguing with me. I’m not in the mood. The point is that
you shouldn’t be talking to adults you don’t know. You shouldn’t run
off by yourself. You’re too young to be out there alone.”
I wanted to say that it wasn’t true. I handled myself just fine.
Just because I was younger than Sophie and she always called me a
baby, that didn’t mean I was. Nevertheless, I could sense my sister’s
weariness. She carried her tension in her shoulders, balling her fists
up into tight balls on either side of her. If I pushed her any harder, I
was scared that Sophie might explode into a million tiny bits.
Good thing we were in a hospital. The doctors could probably put
her back together, but I didn’t want to chance it.
“You didn’t tell Dad, did you?” I asked sheepishly.
Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “He still hasn’t
woken up yet.”
“Are you going to tell him I ran away?”
“No. If I do, then he’ll know I didn’t do my job looking after you.”
“Makes sense.”
Silence fell between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, we just both
ran out of steam at the same time.
We were seated on the spare chairs next to Dad’s hospital bed. A
nurse popped in every once in a while to check on him, but I also
got the sneaking suspicion that they were checking in on me and
Sophie, too. There was one nurse, Miss Ava, who liked to sneak us
sweet treats whenever she came by on her rounds. I liked her the
most out of all the medical staff, though Dr. Kekeo was a close
contender.
The night rolled around and Dad still hadn’t woken up. Dr. Kekeo
explained at one point that the medicine they had him on would
make him super sleepy, so this made sense. Even still, I missed him
a lot. I sat there for hours, staring at his sleeping face, quietly
praying that he’d wake up so we could all go home.
Miss Ava eventually rolled two fold-out sleeping cots into the
room. “So you can sleep here tonight,” she said. “My shift will be
ending soon, but the night nurses are just as nice. Except Joanna.
She’s a little grumpy. Try to avoid her if you can.” And then, very
quickly, “You didn’t hear that from me.”
 Sophie and I pinched our fingers and motioned like we were
zipping our lips closed. Miss Ava’s secret was safe with us.
She brought us some food before she clocked out for the night.
They were on silver trays straight from the cafeteria, little dips to
help the cooks portion out food, though I had a feeling Miss Ava
pulled some strings to get us a little extra dessert. The food was
alright; certainly, nothing that blew my socks off. It was a simple
mac and cheese with a side of fries, a bread roll, and a caesar salad
with way too much dressing and not enough croutons. Dessert was
a brownie bar and a half.
I ate all of the dessert and didn’t finish my greens, much to
Sophie’s annoyance.
I discovered very quickly just how much I hated staying in the
hospital. I wasn’t even a patient, but the ugly walls and smell of
chemical cleaners made my stomach churn. The fold-out cot was
nowhere near as comfy as my bed back home, and the spare pillows
and blankets that we were given were scratchy and smelled of
unfamiliar detergent.
I was surrounded on all sides by weird sounds and shadows. The
lights out in the hallway were dimmed, but not turned off
completely, so I could see the occasional nurse or doctor making
their way from ward to ward. The machine that Dad was hooked up
to beeped occasionally. The more I listened to it, the more I dreaded
hearing it. Was it a good sound? A bad sound? I couldn’t tell, and a
part of me didn’t want to know.
Sophie fell asleep well before I did. She was always such a sound
sleeper, and she snored like a chainsaw. I’d bet all of my allowance
that Sophie could fall asleep in the middle of a construction zone and
still dream peacefully. I, on the other hand, had no such luck.
 I tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Every time I checked
the clock on the wall, it had in reality only been a couple of minutes.
I was in for a very rough night.
It was around midnight —at least, I was pretty sure— when I
heard Dad cough. He stirred, mumbling something under his breath.
I got up immediately, walking up to his bedside to place a hand on
his.
“Hey, Dad,” I whispered.
“Where are we?” he asked, bringing a palm up to feel his
forehead.
“At the hospital,” I explained.
This must have brought back some memories, because all Dad
said was, “Oh.”
“How are you feeling? Do I need to get the doctor?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m okay.” He patted the bed beside him. “Hop
on up.”
I was more than happy to, climbing into the bed and curling up
next to my father. His embrace was the only comforting thing here.
“I didn’t know you were sick,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice
even.
“Neither did I,” he admitted solemnly. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Do you think you feel well enough to go home?”
“I’m not sure. That’s for the doctor to decide.”
I bit my bottom lip and frowned. “I want to go home, Dad. I hate
it here.”
“I don’t like it here, either.” He hugged me tighter. “Why are you
all sunburnt, Kay?”
“No reason,” I lied.
I must not have been very convincing because Dad raised his
brows at me. “Sweetheart?”
 I sighed. “I was looking for a magic potion that could grant
wishes. Noah told me about it. It’s hidden somewhere on the beach.
I thought if I could find it and drink it, I could wish that you’d get
better.”
Dad stiffened. He looked like he was about to cry and I hated it. I
must have said something wrong. Instead of being scolded, he
hugged me again, kissing the top of my hair. “Oh, sweetheart. It was
very sweet of you to think of me. But when you find it, you shouldn’t
waste your wish on me.”
“You believe me? Sophie and Jack keep telling me that it isn’t
real.”
“Ignore them. Magic’s very real, sweetheart. It’s all around us.
Most people forget what it looks like, but once you know, you’ll learn
to see it everywhere.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it, then.”
“Good. You do that.” He kissed my hair again. “Did the doctors
say anything about Uncle James?”
I nodded. “He’s coming tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, good. He got my message.”
“Do we really have to go back to California with him?”
“What? I thought you loved spending time with him.”
“I do, but I don’t want to leave you here.”
“I know. I don’t want to leave you, either.”
I clung onto his shirt. The doctors changed him out of the one he
was wearing into one of those generic pale blue hospital gowns. The
fabric was stiff and rough against my fingers. “I’m scared, Dad.
What’s going to happen to you?”
“Kay, listen to me very closely. I love you and your sister very
much. I promise that I’m going to do everything I can to get better.
The doctors and nurses here are going to help me do that. But I
can’t concentrate on getting healthy if I have to worry about the two
of you. If you go with Uncle James, I’ll be able to relax a lot more
and get better faster.”
This made a surprising amount of sense. I wasn’t going to argue
with Dad, either way.
“When you get better, can you bring us back to Maui?”
“I sure can, sweetheart. But we have to take things one step at a
time.”
“Okay,” I mumbled.
“That’s my girl.” He chuckled lightly. “Look out for your sister,
alright? Keep her out of trouble while you're with your uncle.”
I curled my nose. “But she’s mean. She’s always telling me what
to do.”
“Think of it as a secret mission.”
My eyes widened. “Like I’m a spy?”
“Exactly. Your mission is to keep her on the straight and narrow
while I’m here. You have to be sneaky about it. Look out for her
without letting her know you’re looking out for her. It’s easier to trick
her into being good than telling her outright.”
“Wow, that’s really smart.”
“I know. No matter what happens, you and your sister always
need to have each other’s backs. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, snuggle up, sweetheart. Get some sleep. It’s way
past your bedtime.”
“But, Dad,” I whined.
He patted me on the back rhythmically in the way he knew I
liked. The warmth of his palm spread across my back, lulling me to
sleep. A great ease washed over me as Dad hummed a wordless
song. He was a terrible singer, unable to carry a tune, but I liked the
richness of his voice and the way his notes were sure and anchored
like the ocean’s surface on a calm evening.
Sleep pulled me under. I dreamt of the beach and tall palm trees
swaying with the breeze.
 CHAPTER 6

U ncle James was wild.

Like, seriously. He looked and acted like he lived out in
the Amazon Rainforest eleven months out of the year. Every other
sentence out of his mouth was a joke that never failed to crack me
up. When he visited us, he always spoiled Sophie and me with a
mountain-worth of presents, little trinkets he purchased throughout
his travels as a National Geographic photographer.
His hair was a frizzy red mess and he had a long, scraggly beard
to match. Sometimes I thought if he braided both, he could look a
lot like one of those tough viking warriors I sometimes saw on the
History Channel. Today, however, he was in a quiet mood. Not sad,
not angry, not happy. Just quiet, and that was probably the most
unsettling thing about it.
It meant he was being serious.
And if wild, wacky Uncle James was being serious, it meant
things with Dad were a lot more grave than people were letting on.
Ever since we got there, grown-ups had put on their best smiles and
spoke in their softest, kindest voices when talking to me and Sophie.
They were hiding something, I could tell. But not Uncle James.
I could trust Uncle James to be honest.
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Title: A visit to a farm house; or, An introduction to various subjects

connected with rural economy

Author: active 1801-1820? S. W.

Editor: T. H.

Release date: May 25, 2022 [eBook #68171]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: William Darton, 1820

Credits: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VISIT TO A FARM

HOUSE; OR, AN INTRODUCTION TO VARIOUS SUBJECTS CONNECTED
WITH RURAL ECONOMY ***
 A Tribute of
Regard,
Presented by
Thy Affectionate
Friend
Frontispiece.
 The Farm Yard.

VISIT
TO

A FARM HOUSE;
OR,

AN INTRODUCTION
TO

VARIOUS SUBJECTS
CONNECTED WITH

RURAL ECONOMY.
EMBELLISHED WITH BEAUTIFUL PLATES.

By S. W.
AUTHOR OF “A VISIT TO LONDON.”

SEVENTH EDITION,
REVISED AND CORRECTED

By T.H.

LONDON:
WILLIAM DARTON, 58, HOLBORN HILL.

And to be had of all Booksellers.

1820.
(Entered at Stationers’ Hall.)

[PRICE HALF-A-CROWN.]
 PREFACE.
This little Work was undertaken to excite the attention of those
children, who live in the country, to the various objects by which they
are surrounded; and to furnish those residing in the metropolis and
other large cities, with some information relative to rural economy,
which their situation prevents them acquiring by personal
observation.
The author acknowledges that she is totally incompetent deeply to
discuss the phenomena of nature, or the science of agriculture; she
should indeed think it inconsistent to introduce scientific researches
into a Work of this kind. But a slight investigation of the simple arts
by which the nourishment of man is effected, or of some of those
wonders of creative power which daily present themselves to view,
cannot, in her opinion, be deemed an improper exercise even at an
early age.
 VISITS
TO
A FARM HOUSE.
 CHAPTER I.
Cows.

“What a delightful morning!” exclaimed little Arthur Benson on

opening his eyes, and seeing the sun shine bright into his room;
“Charles, Charles,” continued he, turning to his brother, who was still
asleep, “let us get up directly, and we shall have time for a little walk
before grandpapa and grandmamma come down stairs.” Charles
obeyed the summons, and they were soon dressed. They then went
into the garden, and from the garden into the field adjoining; both
highly pleased with all they saw, for they had never slept out of
London before, and the country was quite a new scene to them.
“See,” said Charles, “how all the cows are gathered together by that
gate; and here comes a man they call old Ralph with a pail on his
arm. Pray, Ralph, what do the cows want there?” “They want to be
milked,” said Ralph, “and through that gate is the way to the farm
yard.” “Are you going to milk them, and may we come with you?”
inquired Arthur.
Leave being given, they tripped along by the side of the good old
servant; but both stood at some distance behind when they came
near the cows, as they felt rather afraid of going close to such large
animals. “Why, now, masters, what is there to be afraid of?” said
Ralph, who found they had left off talking and suddenly shrunk back.
“The cows will not hurt you, if you do not hurt them.” “Don’t they
sometimes toss people with their great horns?” asked Charles. “Here
and there you may meet with a vicious one,” replied the man, “but in
common they are very gentle.”
Arthur. I remember my papa told me never to run in the way of the
cows that we meet in London streets.
Ralph. Aye, that is a very different thing. The poor cattle are not
used to be there, so sometimes they may be frightened; and then,
the butchers are often cruel, and will beat and drive them about, as I
have heard, so that for what I know it may be best to keep out of
their way; but here there is nothing of the sort. I do not ill use them,
and they are always quiet with me.
The little Bensons then recovered from their fears, and wanted to
milk the cows themselves. The trial was made, and they were
surprised to find that they were not able to do it as well as Ralph.
Had they been older, they would have known that there are many
things which are easy to those who are accustomed to do them, that
one who had never tried would find difficult.
“Pray, Ralph,” asked Arthur, “why has the young calf that thing full
of spikes round his mouth? See, he wants to suck the black cow, and
she will not let him. Cannot you take it off?”
“Oh no, master Arthur, it is time the calf should be weaned. He is
old enough now to eat grass, and we want the milk for the dairy; so
we put the spikes on him, and because of them, as they would hurt
her, the mother will not let him suck any more.”
“Is he to be killed?” inquired Charles.
“Not at present,” replied the old man. “Master means to keep him
to draw in the team.”
“To draw in the team!” said Charles with some surprise.
“Yes,” returned Ralph; “we have always a team of oxen. You may
see them ploughing in that field yonder; just there,” continued he,
pointing with his finger, “beyond the holly hedge.”
“I see them; I see them,” said Arthur. “Poor creatures! how slow
they go! Are not they tired, Ralph?” “No, sir,” replied Ralph, “they do
not move so quick as horses; but they are vastly stronger. And
though it is not always quite so easy to manage them, yet on the
whole they answer very well.”
Ralph had now finished milking: and taking the little boys into the
stable, he showed them a baby calf, as he called it, that was to be
sold to the butcher the next day.
Page 6.
 The baby Calf.
London. Published by W. Darton Jun. Oct. 5, 1815.

“O you pretty little thing!” said Arthur. “Only look, Charles, at these
spots on its back. I should like to have it for my own. Why must it be
killed, pray?”
Ralph. To serve us for food, master Arthur. If we were to suffer all
the cattle to live, they would eat all the grass and corn that we could
grow; and then we should be starved, and you would not like that.
Arthur. No, I don’t want to starve; only I do not like to have things
killed.
At this moment Mr. Mansfield came into the stable.
“We were talking about this poor calf, grandpapa,” said Charles.
“Ralph says it is to be killed to-morrow to make veal. I am sorry for it;
it has such a pretty coat!”
“It cannot be helped, my dear,” replied his grandfather. “But when
it is dead, do you know what will be done with its pretty coat?” The
boys answering they did not, “It will be sold,” said he, “to the tanner,
who dresses the skins of cattle, or hides as they are called; and
when it is properly prepared, it makes that beautiful, smooth kind of
leather, that the large books you were looking at last night were
bound with. It is often prepared to write upon, and is then called
vellum. The skins of oxen and cows make a thick coarse leather,
such as the soles of our boots and shoes.”
“And what becomes of the hair?” asked Charles.
“After the hide has been soaked for a long time,” replied Mr.
Mansfield, “it comes off easily, and is put into that kind of mortar
which is used to plaster walls, in order to keep them from crumbling
and falling away. Did you never see in a white wall broken down in
part, a heap of short hairs, and here and there perhaps a little loose
piece of mortar hanging to them?”
Arthur said he had, but he did not know it was cow-hair; and
added, he could not have thought it could have been of any use.
“Every thing is of use, my dear,” said Mr. Mansfield. “I doubt if you
can name a part of the cow that will not turn to some account.”
“What the hoofs, grandpapa?” said Charles.
 “Yes, Charles,” returned Mr. Mansfield. “The hoofs and the parings
of the skin, by being boiled down to a strong jelly, make the glue
which carpenters use to join things together.”
Arthur. The horns—Oh, I know what is done with the horns. I have
seen horn lanterns, and I have got a little box at home that mamma
says is made of horn.
Mr. Mansfield. Very well, Arthur. And you may have seen boxes,
and knife-handles, and combs, and many other things, made of the
bones of the ox. Even the dung is of some use. It is a good manure
for land; it is used in the process for bleaching linen; and poor
women pick it up when it is dry, and make fires of it, to save coals.
 CHAPTER II.
The Dairy.

Mrs. Mansfield, hearing how much her little grandsons had been
pleased with the cows, after breakfast took them into the dairy, to
show them what was done with the milk which those useful animals
give in such large quantities. The dairy was a little room with a brick
floor, facing the north, and kept very cool, by means of a latticed
window that let in fresh air. It was necessary that it should be built in
that way, because heat soon turns milk sour. Round the room were
fixed a sort of trays lined with lead, which then were all filled with
milk.
“Grandmamma, what is to be done with this milk?” inquired Arthur.
“It is set for cream,” answered Mrs. Mansfield; “and the cream will
be made into butter.”
Charles. How is butter made, pray?
Grandmamma. Come here, and I will show you. The milk is
poured into these trays, which are not deep, but broad, so as to
cover a large space. When it has stood some time, the cream or
greasy part, which at first is mixed with the milk, rises to the top in
the manner you now see. Then it is skimmed off with this ladle, and
put into a pan by itself. This is done twice a-day; and when there is
cream enough, it is churned into butter.
Charles. Is there any churn here, grandmamma? Sister Kate has
got a plaything churn, but I never saw one fit for real use.
Mrs. Mansfield pointed to a large barrel fixed on a stand, with a
winch handle to turn it, and told him that was the churn. Charles was
surprised, and said it was not at all like his sister’s.
Grandmamma. Perhaps not. Sometimes they are made like a pail,
with a long stick to pull up and down; but these I have give less
trouble, and, I believe, are now common.
Page 14.

The Dairy.
London. Published by W. Darton Junʳ. Oct. 5, 1815.
 Arthur. Well, grandmamma, how is this used?
Grandmamma. The cream is put in through that little square door,
which is then shut quite close; and when the churn has been turned
a good while, it is changed into butter.
Charles. So then butter is nothing but cream shaken about? I
should like to see it made.
Grandmamma. You cannot see it now, my dear, because Rose
churned yesterday. But I will give you a little cream in a phial: and
you may shake it till you make it into butter.
Arthur. Oh, can we make it so? I should like it very much indeed, if
you please, ma’am.
Mrs. Mansfield fetched a phial, and the two boys amused
themselves a long time with their experiment. But they found that
with all their pains they could not turn the whole into butter; their
grandmamma told them there was always some waste; that it was
called buttermilk, and given to the pigs.
Arthur and Charles, quite proud of their success, went to look for
Rose, that they might tell her they could make butter as well as she.
They found her in the dairy, where their attention was drawn to a
new circumstance. Rose was standing before a large tub, full of a
white substance rather thicker than jelly, which she was very
diligently employed in breaking.
They forgot the butter they had intended to boast of, and both
began to ask a variety of questions, which she answered with great
good humour.
Both the Boys. What is that for? What are you doing now, Rose?
Rose. Making cheese.
Charles. Making cheese? Well, since I have been at my
grandpapa’s, I have seen things I never saw before.
Arthur. But how do you make it, Rose? What have you got there?
Rose. Curd.
 Arthur. What is curd?
Rose. It is made from milk, master Arthur. When the cream is
taken off, we take the milk and mix it with rennet, and then—
Arthur. Rennet! What is that?
Rose. A sour juice that is made by boiling a part of the inside of a
calf. We put a little rennet to the milk, which makes it part into curds
and whey. This thick white part is the curd, and the thin watery part is
called whey.
Arthur. Is that the whey people take for a cold?
Rose. No. That kind of whey is made with wine instead of rennet;
but the curd parts just in the same manner as this.
Charles. I will ask our Sally to let me look at it the next time she
makes whey. But why do you break it?
Rose. That there may be no lumps. Wait a little, if you please, and
you shall see how I go on.
She then took a large round bag made of coarse cloth, into which
she put all the curd, and pressed it with very heavy weights in order
to squeeze out as much of the whey as she could. This done, she
turned it out of the bag into a vat which has holes like a cullender,
and, leaving it to drain, then told them the cheese was finished.
“I did not know,” said Charles, “it was so easy to make cheese. But
what is the rind, pray?”
“’Tis the same as the rest,” replied Rose; “only, being left to the air,
it grows hard in time.” Then leading them into another room, she
showed them a great number of cheeses; some were still soft,
having been lately made; others, that had been longer kept, were
grown quite hard.
“What is the whey good for?’ asked Charles, as they came back
through the dairy.
“We give it to the pigs,” said Rose.
 “So then,” said Arthur to himself as he walked away, “butter and
cheese are both made from milk; but the butter is the greasy part,
and the cheese is the curdy.”
“Yes, master Arthur,” said Rose, “you are right, for that is our way
of making butter and cheese in this country: but in many places,
where richer cheese is made, they use the milk without skimming off
the cream; and to make good cream cheese, the cream only is used
when skimmed from the milk.”
 CHAPTER III.
The Pigs.

When dinner-time came, it happened that there were brought to

table some custards and gooseberry tarts, of which Charles was
tempted to eat very greedily. He had already been twice helped, and
the servant was going to carry away the remainder of a tart that had
been left in the dish, when Charles, not satisfied whilst any
remained, stopped him, and once more filled his plate with it.
The footman stared; and his grandpapa and grandmamma looked
at him with surprise, but said nothing.
In the evening Mr. Mansfield led his grandsons into the yard, just
at the time his man was giving the pigs their supper. Arthur and
Charles were diverted at the eagerness with which the whole family
squeaked and grunted over their food, which they devoured with the
utmost haste, treading one over another as they scrambled for a
share.
“O grandpapa,” exclaimed Charles, “how droll it is to see the pigs
eat! Look there! look there! One has got a cabbage leaf, and another
wants it. Now it has got it away, and it eats it as fast as ever it can.
And now it is come for more. I dare say they will soon empty the
trough.”
“Perhaps so,” replied his grandpapa, smiling. “Pigs are as fond of
cabbage leaves and bean stalks, as little boys are of gooseberry
pie.”
Charles blushed.
“Hey, Charles!” continued he, putting his hand upon his head so as
to look full in his face, “this is not the first time to-day I thought I had
a pig for my companion. Do you know any body that ate voraciously,
and at last emptied the dish?”