Bright April by Marguerite de Angeli

Part I

The trolley car drove along German-town Avenue. Past the Market Square, down the hill, across the wide street where the market stood and where there was a movie and several big stores. April was on her way back home from the dentist who had just fixed her tooth. It hurt a little. When she cried, “Ouch!” a curly head popped up over the seat back and two blue eyes looked angrily into April’s. A tiny pink finger pointed at her, and the little girl said:

“You’re brown!”

The child’s mother looked displeased, but April’s mamma just smiled and said:

“Yes, she’s brown, and you’re pink. Isn’t she a nice warm color?”

But the little girl didn’t answer, and she and her mother got off the car. April’s smile faded, and she turned to ask:

“Am I brown, Mamma?”

“Yes, of course. You are just the color of coffee with good cream in it. And you are just like your name and the month you were born in; dark April one minute and bright April the next!”

She pressed the button for the next stop. April felt the place where the tooth had been fixed. It wasn’t so bad going to the dentist after all. Besides, it was fun to see the store windows and to ride in the trolley, especially on the way back. How she had been afraid of it! Now, it was all over and the broken corner was mended. Now she could laugh about it. She and Tom had run into each other near the stairs the other day, and somehow, April’s tooth was broken. Probably it was Tom’s drumstick that struck her. He was never without those drumsticks; never for a moment. Papa sometimes took them away from under Tom’s pillow after he was asleep, but Tom always woke up and discovered his loss and Papa always gave them back to him.

“The trouble is,” Papa said,

“your mind is on those drumsticks when it ought to be on something else. If you had been looking where you were going instead of playing with the sticks you wouldn’t have broken April’s tooth. You can’t even study your lessons without tapping on the books or on the desk, and you nearly drive your mother crazy with your eternal beating on something.”

It was bitter cold when Mamma and April stepped off the trolley car, but they had only a short way to walk, and though it was against the wind and the streets were icy, they were soon turning in at their own gate.

“I hope Papa is home and the house is warm,” April said.

“Yes, and I hope there is a letter from Ken and that Christine comes home for the week end.”

April was always glad to get inside the house, where it was pleasant and clean, even though some of the houses just a few doors down the street were dirty and ill-kept. Mr. Bright was home. He had finished his work and built a fire in the fireplace. He sat before the fire reading and dozing, with his feet on a stool, as usual, to rest them, for his work took him on a fifteen-mile walk every day. He was a postman. Today was Saturday, so there had been only one mail delivery and the walk was shorter. But it was hard walking on the streets that were covered with ice and snow, and the heavy shoes and galoshes were tiring. It was the coldest winter for many years, and Papa said many of the people he served hadn’t been out of the house for weeks.

“If I didn’t bring them letters and papers,” he said,

“I guess they wouldn’t know anything that’s going on in the world.”

He enjoyed his work, carrying messages of help and good will to people. Even those that brought sad news made him feel close to them.

“Only this morning,” he continued,

“I delivered a letter to a mother whose boy is still in an Army hospital. I remember when that boy was little and when he first started to school. I remember when he went away,” he finished sadly.

Then he laughed.

“I guess I’m kind of a heart-throb in the community. Sometimes I’m Cupid, sometimes I’m Santa Claus, sometimes I’m The Law.”

“Next week,” April reminded him,

“you’ll be Cupid. It’s nearly Valentine’s Day, remember?”

“Yes,” said Mamma as she went to hang up her things, “and we’d better be sure to send Ken’s letter off today or it won’t reach him in time. April, you begin.”

April sat down to write. There was always family news to tell. Homely things like what they had for supper, or that Tom was helping Mr. Meyer in the drugstore on Saturdays. Mamma said Ken would be interested to hear that the old roof over the kitchen had been mended and that Papa put new boards in the back porch. Just as she reached this point, she knew it was supper time, Maybe Chris would come home tonight! She finished off her part of the family letter with a valentine drawing. Ken said he liked letters with her pictures best.

All through the evening they waited for Chris. When she didn’t come Mamma said:

“We know there aren’t enough nurses at the hospital. Chrissy has just had to give up her free day again to help. It is hard for her, but she is young and strong.

”April liked to have Chris come home. She brought strange and interesting stories about the patients in the hospital. She looked so neat in her uniform that April thought she, herself, would like to be a nurse too. Then she remembered that she and Sophie had planned to be teachers like Miss Bell. Sophie lived on German-town Avenue, where her papa kept a drugstore. She was in the same grade at school as April and belonged to the same Brownie Scout troop.

Monday, when April came home from school, there were letters from Chris and from Ken. Sure enough, Chris had stayed on duty because one of the other student nurses was away on leave.

Ken wrote,

“I may get home soon, but don’t count on it too much because some of us have to stay here. It seems like a waste of time now, and we are all so anxious to go back and start on our jobs at home. I don’t mind doing my bit, but I’d like to be sure of what we are coming home to.” April wondered what he meant. Here was home just as it had always been.

What could he mean? Mamma said,

“He means he hopes there will be a place for him to use the training he has been getting in architecture at State College.”

April still didn’t know what he meant. But she knew from Mamma’s look that it meant something to be anxious about.

Wednesday of the next week was Valentine’s Day. As usual, it was cold, so April carried the valentine she had made for Miss Bell under her coat. Some of the other children carried valentines too. April couldn’t help wondering if any of them were for her. They put them all into a big box Miss Bell had ready.

April’s name was called twice for a valentine.

One said, “Guess who?” and April felt sure it was from Sophie, for when she looked up, Sophie’s eyes were smiling at her over her hands that covered her mouth. Then the box was empty, and the hands on the clock pointed nearly closing time.

Miss Bell quieted the chatter in the room with a motion of her hands, then said,

“This week we celebrated Lincoln's Birthday, and we have had Valentine’s Day, Next week we have another birthday. Do you know whose?”

“Washington’s Birthday! Washington’s Birthday!” Everyone tried to make himself heard at once, saying it over and over till Miss Bell said, “SSHH! SSHH! Quiet, please!

”The closing bell sounded, and it was time to go home.

There was another letter from Ken. Papa read it at the supper table. In it, Ken said,

“How I wish I could see you all. I’m still hoping but it will be some time before I get home. Lots of the fellows have gone, but it looks as if I will be here for a long while. If only there will be real peace when I do come home, this time spent so far away from you would not seem so endless.”

April looked at Mamma anxiously, but Mamma kept her eyes down. The letter went on:

“We heard the concert last night and I thought of you listening too. I could see Pop sitting there with his feet up, and you, Mother, in and out of the room, listening when you could. April, I suppose, was on the floor with the back page of the newspaper and Tom coming along whistling and rattling those drumsticks...”

He didn’t write much more, but they all knew how much he wanted to come home. His room was all ready for him, and Mamma had washed the curtains, too, so the house would look welcoming.

At four o’clock on Thursday it was time for Brownie meeting. April loved being a Brownie, but she was eager to be a real Scout when she was ten. Sophie was a Brownie, too. The girls could hardly wait for the day to come each week, for Mrs. Cole, their leader, always had something interesting for them to do. Usually it was something they could make.

Now Mrs. Cole was showing the girls how to make the most exciting things.

“It will teach you to remember how necessary these things are to health and better living if you make them and see what they are for,” she said.

But the girls liked to do them because they were fun, because they liked to be at Mrs. Cole’s house, and because they liked to be together.

They were making two miniature tents like the ones used at the Scout Camp, and all the things needed to furnish them.

At first they made things too large, until Mrs. Cole reminded them:

“Just imagine that you are standing inside the tent by this little table we are making, and think how small these things would be.”

April almost could feel herself growing small like Alice in Wonderland, and imagined that she was sitting on that tiny stool. That helped. She made the spoons so tiny that the first one broke, but after that they went better. She was so successful with them that Mrs. Cole asked her to show the other girls how she did it.

It was the day before Washington’s Birthday. Papa had gone off long ago on his mail route, and Mamma stood at the door making sure that Tom and April wore their rubbers and were well buttoned up for it was very cold again. She frowned at the dirty street. It has rained, snowed, and frozen, until it was almost impossible to walk. Papa and several others in the neighborhood tried to keep the street clean and orderly, but even Papa couldn’t do much with the thick dirty ice. But the men who gathered the trash were asking for more pay so they could live decently, and refused to work until they got it. Papa said he didn’t blame them, but he did wish they would collect the trash.

April knew that if daddy wasn’t so good at mending and fixing things they would find it harder to keep clean. She knew that most of these old houses in the street had no heat except the one stove. The water froze in the pipes, and it took a lot of water to keep a family clean.

One of the first things Miss Bell talked about that morning was the disorder of the streets. She spoke in assembly so all the children could hear.

“We are each one of us responsible for the cleanliness of our neighborhood. If the wagons do not come to take the trash away, then we must keep it put away neatly until they do come. How many of you will promise to go home this afternoon and do your part in cleaning up the streets?” Almost every child put up his hand. Then she talked for a while about the importance of cleanliness and neatness.

“If we are clean and neat about our homes and about ourselves,” she said,

“we will be healthier and we will respect ourselves. How can we expect others to respect us if we don’t respect ourselves?”

April was glad that Mamma was so particular about keeping her clean and neat. She looked at Tom, who sat on the other side of the assembly room. Yes, he looked shining clean too.

There was a little play about George Washington. When the classes went back to their rooms, Miss Bell talked more about Washington. Then she spoke of other men and women in our nation’s history who had given their time, and sometimes their lives, in order that we might have a more perfect union. She reminded the class that this country is for all, and that to be unfair or unkind to anyone because of his race or religion is neither Christian nor American.

April remembered hearing Papa say the same thing only the night before. He had been reading an article aloud to Mamma, which said that some of the soldiers were not allowed to go to the canteens but had to go off by themselves. She knew, too, that Miss Bell was thinking of the quarrel among some of the boys in the schoolyard the other day.

Now, standing in front of the class, Miss Bell stopped looking so serious as she asked, “Who can tell us something about Washington?”Many hands went up.

The children were eager to tell things they remembered. April wished she knew something to tell.

Just then Miss Bell spoke to her. “April, why don’t you tell us about the first man who was killed in the battle of liberty?” But April said she didn’t know about that.

“You don’t? He was one of your people. And there were many others who helped to fight the battle of liberty. Aren’t you proud?” April was proud. She looked over at Edith, and they smiled at each other.

Just before school closed that afternoon Miss Bell reminded them about cleaning up the trash in the streets.

It sounded quite fine when Miss Bell talked about it. But when April and Sophie came out of the schoolyard and saw the street, it was pretty sad. Even the sidewalks were covered with thick dirty ice and frozen snow. Here and there along the way, boxes of empty cans and papers stood, overflowing onto the walks. It was not a pretty sight, and April wished that the men would come along to collect it. She didn’t know where to begin. She wished she could be on the safety patrol like Tom. There he stood down the street in his white patrol belt, helping the little children across the street. He held his drumsticks in one hand, using them as a signal to call the children, or held them up for cars to stop. He looked very important.

April could see her father already busy in front of the house. He looked up when she came through the gate.

“We must work on this ice while it is thawing.” he said.

“Get me a pail of water, that’s a good girl.”

April went in to get it. Mamma was in the kitchen making the fire so the water would be hot. Together they carried water and broom and helped get the steps and the walk cleared.

The next morning there were several of the neighbors out to help the girls and boys fulfill their promise.

At Brownie meeting that afternoon, Mrs. Cole gave the girls a surprise. She came in from the kitchen with a tray full of baskets.

“Since this is Washington’s Birthday, I thought we would celebrate,” she said. The baskets were filled with candies, and on the handle of each was a small American flag and a slip of paper with each girl’s name.

“These are to remind us that we are all Americans, I hope you will keep the flag where you can see it every day, and that it will remind you to be real Americans and good Brownie Scouts.”Then she spoke of how much better the street looked and how proud she was of the Brownies. She began to sing the Brownie song, and the girls joined in:“We’re the Brownies, here’s our aim Lend a hand and play the game,

Where the Brownies live and play, That is where I love to stay.”They fastened the flags to their Brownie dresses and began to chatter and eat, all talking at once.

Felicia said, “My brother Tony says he’ll bring me a real basket from the South Pacific when he comes home. We had a letter from him today. It took two weeks for it to come!”

“Two weeks is a very short time to come so far,” said Mrs. Cole.

“It is wonderful the way the mail is carried during this time. It used to take months for a letter to come that distance.”

“My daddy says it used to take weeks for a letter to go from here to Boston,” April said.

“I’m sure your daddy knows some interesting things about how people have communicated with each other,” Mrs. Cole said.

“April, why don’t you ask him to tell you? Th en we can talk about it the next time we meet.”

April agreed. She was sure Papa would know lots about the way messages had been carried. He was always reading and said there seemed to be no end to the things you could learn about the development of post office service.

Part II

When it was time to go home, April walked the long way round with Sophie, and when Sophie told her, “Come in just a minute and see my new paper dolls,” she went in. It was such fun to try on the dresses made from paper that she stayed longer than she meant to. Sophie’s mamma was setting the table when she left, and it was beginning to get dark.

Mamma always said, “Home is the place for boys and girls when night comes.” Even Tom was expected to come home straight from school before going anywhere else, and to be home well before nightfall. April ran all the way home.

“Is that you, April?” Papa called from the living room, and almost before she could answer, Mamma called from the kitchen. “What kept you, dear?” It was all right when she told them where she had been, but she was reminded to come home right after the Brownie meeting next time.

“And where is Tom?” Mamma wondered. “It is high time he was here. Supper is all ready and will spoil if we don’t eat soon. Why doesn’t he come?” Mamma looked anxious.

Finally she asked April to help put the food on the table, and they sat down to eat. Still there was no whistle and no rattling of drumsticks to tell them that Tom was on his way home.

There was so much discussion at the table about Tom and the need for children to obey their parents and come home at certain time that April forgot all about what she was going to ask Papa. They had already had their supper when they heard someone at the door, April recognized Tom’s voice, but he was not whistling, and someone seemed to be with him. Papa got up to see who it was. He was gone only a few moments and came back with Tom, who looked very sad. Even Mamma didn’t say anything about where he had been, but she and Papa talked quietly in the hall. She only told Tom to eat his supper, and then, while she and April washed the dishes, Papa talked to him in the living room. It was all very mysterious to April. Besides, Mamma looked worried and didn’t speak as she went about the kitchen work. It made April feel as if something dreadful had happened. At last she could bear it no longer.

“What is it, Mamma? What has happened? Is anything wrong?” Mamma thought for a moment, then she answered, “There could have been something terribly wrong. If it weren’t for the fact that nearly everybody knows your father and knows what a fine man he is, Tom’s name would be on the police record. Tom and Nick have been playing with some boys in that empty building down the street. Today, just after they went into the building, the police came. It seems that these other boys have been taking fixtures from the building and selling them. Tom and Nick had nothing to do with that and didn’t know anything about it, but the police took them all to the station house. Luckily, they know Papa. They called the school principal, and he told them that both boys have always been good citizens in school. So they didn’t put Tom or Nick’s name on the police record. If they had, it would stand against them all their lives, perhaps. It just doesn’t pay to get into bad company. I think we shall have to move.”

Mamma looked sad.

“Move?” thought April. “And leave Sophie? Leave the Brownie troop?”

Papa kept Tom in the living room for a long time, and not once that evening did they hear the rattling of Tom’s drumsticks.

In the morning there was a letter from Chris saying she would be home on Saturday. Mamma began to plan for her weekly shopping, To April it seemed as if they always had good things to eat, but when Chris came home, Mamma tried to have the things she especially liked. They began to wait for her after lunch on Saturday, but it was nearly dinner time before she came.

“At the last minute,” she complained, “I had to go and help move a patient to another room. I don’t mind so much, but nothing ever pleases the supervisor, and she never says we do good work.”

“Take it easy, take it easy,” Papa reminded her. “The angrier she is, the nicer you must be. Finally she will be ashamed to treat you less well than you treat her. You’ll see.”

“Well,” Chris replied, “I suppose so, but sometimes it seems too hard to bear.” Then she brightened at the sight of Ken’s letter lying on the books beside Papa’s chair. April watched Chris as she read through the letter. But all she said was, “OH-o-oh,” and looked at his picture standing on the shelf.

Soon young people began to arrive to see Chris while she was home. Some of them stayed only a few moments, and some of them sat down to supper. April was allowed to stay up later than usual and watch while they danced to the rhythm of Tom’s drumsticks. Mamma sat down at the piano. April wished it could go on forever, she wished that always people could be happy and that everyone would like everyone else.

Next morning April surprised Chris by taking her breakfast for her to eat in bed. She had learned how to set a breakfast tray at Brownie meetings since Chris was home the last time. She knew how to put all the necessary things in their right places, on a fresh cloth, and how much more attractive it would look with a flower. Sis was pleased. Evening came almost before they knew it, and it was time for Chris to get back to the hospital.

“Back to books and classes; back to carrying water for old men and women,” she said, laughing. But April knew she loved every bit of it, even the hard part.

All that week and the next, there was no word from Ken. April knew from the way Mamma watched out the window for Mr. Benson who brought their mail. Papa worked in another part of town. Mr. Benson had known Ken since he was a little boy. He knew how Mamma waited for a letter from him. Yes, it was like Papa said, “The postman is a kind of heart-throb in the community.”

“Never mind,” he said. “You’ll get a letter very soon. It’s like that. When they get their orders, you don’t hear for several weeks, then one day you get a letter and you know where he is, then you forget all about how long you waited for it. You’ll see! You know there is no better mail service in the world than we have!”

Mr. Benson was proud of his work, just like Papa was. Mamma would laugh and feel a little better because she knew how many anxious mothers there were besides herself, but she couldn’t help wishing for the letter.

It wasn’t till the night before Brownie meeting that April remembered to ask Papa about the Mail Service and how it all began.

Papa told her many things about his work and how important it was to deliver the mail regularly, no matter what the weather or how difficult it was to get it through to its destination. Then he told April how the words “post office”, “post road”, and “postman” came to be used. He said it all went back to the days of the ancient Romans, whose language was Latin. When the government of this country set up its regular mail service, it marked the roads with posts at one-mile intervals along a road just as it was done in ancient times. The mail was carried over these roads, and they were called post roads. Then when offices were set up where the mail was taken care of, they were called post offices.

“In those days, of course, the mail was carried on horse-back or by mail coach, in which passengers were also carried. A mail coach was harnessed to the fastest horses. You’d better go to the library and ask for a book that would tell about mail coaches,” he said. “I could tell you, but if you find it for yourself, you will remember it better. Besides, I think it a good idea for you to realize how helpful it is to be able to go to the library for information.”

When Thursday came, April had lots to tell the other Brownies and Mrs. Cole about the post.

The Brownies were still working on the two little tents and the things to put in them. Felicia was sewing the edge of the second tent and talking busily, now that April had finished her story.

“I think I’ll be a dressmaker when I grow up,” she said.

They all began to talk of what they would do when they were grown up.

“I’m going to be a typewriter and work in an office,” said Edith.

“Don’t you mean typist? The typewriter is the machine you use,” Mrs. Cole said.

The girls giggled, and Sophie said she was going to be a druggist and help her daddy in the store.

April said, “I thought I’d like to be a nurse like Chris but now I think I’ll be a hat designer and be the head of a big store.”One of the girls laughed and said, “You? Why, they never let —” But she got no farther, for Mrs. Cole quickly put her hand over the child’s mouth and kept her from talking. She looked kind, but very serious.

“Suppose all of you learn to do the things you have to do now as well as you possibly can, then you will be ready to do any work. You are respected for the way you do your work, any work. Remember, many people cannot do the things they want to do.” The girls looked at one another, but they did not laugh.

When it was time to stop work and put the things away and the girls had left one by one, April was the last to go. She helped Mrs. Cole put the things in the large box and was putting on her coat when Mrs. Cole drew her close and said:

“April, dear, you are very good at planning things and clever with your hands. There are many things you will be able to do when you are grown. Be sure that you choose well. Then be sure you are so well trained that you will be able to take your place in the world. You may find you will have to go somewhere you don’t want to go. Perhaps by the time you are grown up you can go anywhere you want to go.” Then she added slowly, “I hope so.” She looked very serious and unsmiling.

April felt very sad, though she didn’t quite know why. Then she asked, “You mean — you mean there are some places we can’t go? You mean they might not let me be the head in a big store?”

Mrs. Cole didn’t speak but nodded her head slowly up and down, looking deep into April’s eyes, which clouded over though no tears fell.

April felt as if something had struck her. Something made her remember the time when someone else was appointed postmaster instead of Papa. Maybe that was what Ken meant in his letter! She didn’t say any more but ran out of the door and down the steps. She passed several of the girls but didn’t notice when they spoke to her. She passed Sophie as if she had never seen her; passed Tom, who stood on a heap of snow throwing his drumsticks into the air and catching them.

“April!” he called.

But she didn’t answer, only flew on up the street, through the gate, up the steps, and into the house looking for Mamma. Papa was there in the living room with the big book he was always reading, but April wanted only her mother. She managed to keep down the sobs rising in her throat, while she listened, hoping to hear a sound that would tell where Mamma was. Then she heard the sound of the sewing machine upstairs. Mamma was there. She paid no attention to Papa’s question, “Here! Here! What’s the matter?” but ran up the stairs and to the back room where Mamma sewed. She was there and seemed to know already that April needed her. She turned from the machine and looked at April. April threw herself at her mother’s feet and broke into a storm of tears. Mamma tried to comfort her but could get no word from April, who only turned her head from side to side and continued to sob as if her heart was breaking.

Finally, when April had quieted a little, she said sadly, “So — it’s come. Someone has hurt you. Who?”

April shook her head. She couldn't say that Mrs. Cole had hurt her. She loved Mrs. Cole. Besides, she hardly knew what had hurt her. When she could speak she asked, “Mamma, is it true that there are some places we can’t go?”

“Well,” Mamma began, “there are some people who think we are different from them. They don’t understand what scientists have taught us, that all the peoples of the world are one family and that all human blood is the same. They forget that this country is for all people to have an equal chance. Now, tell me, what has happened?”

April looked at Mamma, trying to say what really had happened. She hardly knew, yet the feeling of deep hurt was still there. She began to tell how they had talked at Brownie meeting of the things they would do when they were grown up, and how April had said she wanted to be a hat designer and the head of a shop and how one of the girls laughed at her. Then she told Mamma what Mrs. Cole had said, and the awful feeling she had inside.

“Why must we be different?” she sobbed. “I don’t feel different.”

“You aren’t different, really,” Mamma comforted, “except in the way one flower differs from another. Come here to the window,” she said. “Look out. I know it is beginning to get dark, but you remember where the flower beds are. You know how the tulips and hyacinths come up in the spring. Remember how I always try to find the dark purple hyacinths to set in among the lighter ones?” April nodded, and Mamma went on:

“Today I saw the daffodils coming up where the snow melted in the sun. It won’t be long till they bloom. After that come the tulips. Remember the dark browny ones we love so much and how lovely they look among the bright ones? We really need those dark ones to make the bouquet rich and beautiful. You’re my dark April. Dark April Bright! You’re a Brownie too! Isn’t that funny?” April looked up, then giggled, while Mamma continued:

“And you are going to learn how to do what you want to do so well that you will find a place for yourself wherever you want to go. And you must be so pleasant a person that you will make friends wherever you go.

“Come. Take off your dress and try this on.” April couldn’t help being excited at the thought of a new dress. It would seem new even if Mamma did say, “It is made from those two wool dresses that Auntie gave me.”

Oh, Mamma was a wonder at making things. She made things for Chris and sometimes for her friends. April felt sorry for Tom because he was a boy and all that Mamma could make for him were pajamas.

“Do you like it?” she asked now, for April’s smile showed how pleased she was.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” sighed April.

The storm was over. Mamma hugged her, and they went down to get supper. Papa was at the foot of the stairs as they came down, but he didn’t say anything, just touched April’s hair as she passed. Tom beat the drumsticks along the railing of the porch and came rattling in the door.