Summer Magic Page #2

- Yes!

And we peered in through the windows,

and wasn't it beautiful?

- And nobody lived there.

- Hey, that was years ago.

- You're wild.

- I remember it.

- You weren't even born.

- Oh, stop interrupting.

- Your entire lives are about to change.

- Go on, Nancy.

Well, Mother, a couple of weeks ago,

I decided that I'd try to find out

about that house.

So I wrote to the postmaster in Beulah,

and he answered.

His name is Ossian Popham.

Isn't it a beautiful name?

Anyway, he's the agent for Mr. Hamilton,

who owns the house,

who's miles away in China or somewhere.

Probably an old missionary

or remittance man in disgrace or...

- Could I see Mr. Popham's letter?

- It's all right, Mother. I...

- Nancy...

- Well...

"The pitiful plight of your good self

and your little ones..."

Oh, Mother, read the last page.

"Beulah is brimming over

with fresh milk for your baby boy..."

Who's a baby?

"...so there's no need for him

to be blue with rickets." Nancy!

The important part's

on the last page. Look.

It says the yellow house is vacant

and Mr. Hamilton would be glad to rent

it to a deserving family like ours

for a mere $60 a year.

And he has the right to decide,

'cause he's not only the postmaster,

but Mr. Hamilton's trusted friend,

his factotum, power attorney.

- Slow down, Nancy.

- Oh, think of living in the country.

No storage bills. All our things

will fit into the yellow house.

We'll be self-supporting.

Chickens. Fresh eggs.

Vegetables from the garden. Air. Space.

Honest toil!

- Can we, Mother? Can we?

- Oh, please, Mother.

But, Mother,

my school's here and my friends.

- Beulah's a hick town.

- Abraham Lincoln came from a hick town.

Mother?

Your father loved you so,

and he wanted so much for you.

It was his dream to live in the country.

So maybe he'd like to know we were

together in the yellow house in Beulah.

Oh, Mother, I knew it, I knew it!

I wished it!

Gilly, get to the piano.

Mother, sit down there.

There. In anticipation of this glorious

decisin, I've written a glorification.

But first, an introduction

straight from the Bible.

Church chords, please, Gilly.

Thou shalt no more be termed forsaken,

neither shall thy land

any more be termed desolate,

but it shall be called Beulah,

for the Lord delighteth in thee. Amen.

Right. Now, Railroad Rag.

- What?

- You were just playing it.

# Land of promise, bounteous

# This is beautiful,

this is beautiful Beulah

- # In the rocky state of Maine

- # Land of plenty

# Meant for us

# This is beautiful,

this is beautiful Beulah

# Within our reach is there

# Grapes big as peaches there

# The cows and bees are busy

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