Rainy Days

"Now, Elizabeth, we’ll have none of that." The old woman said sharply. Then her face softened as she looked at the small, frightened child.

"Come along, Elizabeth. You too, Emily. It’s going to rain, and we should be heading back to the house anyway. Mother will still be here when we come back."

Elizabeth trustingly put her hand in the old woman’s, but Emily stayed next to the grave. As she turned to follow her Grandmother out the cemetery gate, her tears were blown away by a fierce wind.

Margaret shepherded her two young grandchildren into the warm kitchen and put the tea kettle on to boil.

"Well, girls, it doesn’t look like we’ll be going to the park today. What do you want to do?"

"Tell us a story, Grandma!" Elizabeth clamored.

"Okay." Margaret smiled. "Hmmmm. I could tell you about the time your mother ran away from home."

"We already heard that one."

"What about a fairy tale?"

Elizabeth shook her head violently.

"I know! I’ve got the perfect story! Come over here, girls."

Elizabeth and Emily settled themselves at their Grandmother’s feet and looked up expectantly. The Grandmother began. . .