Chapter 9 Snow White, Rose Red, and Mr. Aladdin The summer passed quickly, and the seasons changed.
November brought with it dull and dreary weather.
There was a chill in the air, and the days were gloomy.
Thanksgiving was coming.
Golden pumpkins, bright yellow squash, and colorful corn were all being stored away for the season.
The entire community was busy.
Clara Bell and Susan Simpson had asked Rebecca and Emma Jane for their help.
The girls had been selling soap to their friends and neighbors.
The Excelsior Soap Company paid little bonuses for the sale of a certain number of cakes, and the Simpsons had their hearts set on selling enough to earn a lamp.
One weekend just before Thanksgiving, Rebecca's aunts went to visit an old friend in Portland.
She was spending the weekend with Emma Jane.
Now that the girls were twelve, they were old enough to take a short trip on their own.
The girls made plans to visit with Emma Jane's cousins in North Riverboro on Saturday.
Mrs. Perkins had kindly allowed them to sell the soap to a few houses on the way there and back.
The girls woke up happy and excited on Saturday morning.
They had already packed their soap onto the back of the wagon.
The weather was glorious and sunny.
The leaves on the trees were all kinds of amazing colors, bronze, rust, scarlet, and tawny.
The air was crisp.
The old horse pulling the wagon forgot his age and trotted like a colt.
As the girls carried on toward North Riverboro, they stopped off at different houses to sell the soap.
One girl would hold the horse while the other would go to the door.
Rebecca was very successful and had already sold three whole boxes.
Emma Jane wasn't as lucky.
She had only sold three single cakes.
At one house, a lady had put her head out the window and yelled, Go away, little girl.
Whatever you have in your box, we don't want any.
The girls pulled up to a gate with a long path leading up to the house.
It's your turn, Rebecca, Emma Jane said.
And I'm glad, too.
I'm still shaking from the last house.
I don't know who lives here, but the blinds are all shut.
It doesn't count if there's no one home.
You'll have to take the next house, too.
Rebecca walked up the lane and went to the side door.
A young man was husking corn on the porch.
She was surprised to see someone sitting there, so she asked shyly Is the lady of the house at home?
I am the lady of the house this morning, the young man said and smiled.
What can I do for you?
He was very handsome and looked to be in his early twenties.
Rebecca felt shy for an instant.
Then she gathered up her courage and said Have You ever heard of the?
Would you like um?
Do you need any soap?
Do I look like I need soap?
The young man asked.
Rebecca blushed.
I didn't mean it that way.
I have soap to sell.
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her leaflet.
Then she flew into her sales pitch, just as she and Emma Jane had rehearsed.
Rebecca's new friend invited her to sit on the porch with him as they discussed the greatness of the snow-white and rose-red soaps.
"'I'm watching the house today for my aunt.
She's gone to Portland.
I used to live here with her when I was a boy.
This farm is my favorite place on earth.'
"'Oh, I understand.
There's a special place in the heart for the farm where one grew up,' Rebecca said.
The young man put down his cob of corn and So you think your childhood is over now, young lady?
I can still remember it, Rebecca said seriously, but it seems like a very long time ago.
Me too, and it wasn't the happiest of times, he said.
Neither was mine, Rebecca sighed.
The two chatted like old friends.
Rebecca told him all about Sunnybrook Farm, her many brothers and sisters and about never having enough books to read.
The kind stranger told her that he had never had enough food or clothes.
But you're well now, she asked.
I'm doing quite well, thank you, he replied.
Now tell me, how much soap should I buy today?
That's a good question.
Does your aunt have any at home?
How much do you think she needs?
Rebecca asked.
Oh, I'm not sure, but soap doesn't go bad, does it?
He said.
Let me check, Rebecca replied.
She pulled out the pamphlet and read more about the soap.
No, it doesn't.
It holds up very well.
Wonderful, he said.
Now tell me, what brings you to selling soap?
Rebecca told him all about the Simpsons and how hard they were working to earn the special lamp.
In fact, she told him so much about the poor Simpsons that the young man made up his mind in an instant.
I see, he said.
I'll take three hundred cakes.
That should get them the lamp.
Rebecca was sitting on a stool very close to the edge of the porch.
When she heard him say three hundred, she was so shocked that she fell right off her stool and into the lilac bushes.
Thankfully, the porch wasn't too far off the ground.
The kind young man helped her up and brushed her off.
Rebecca turned bright red as she blushed.
Are you quite sure?
Rebecca asked.
That's a lot of cakes.
I'm absolutely sure, he replied.
What's your name, by the way?
Rebecca Rowena Randall, sir.
Lovely name, indeed.
Would you like to know mine? he asked.
I think I know it already, she exclaimed.
It's Mr. Aladdin, like in the story about the magic lamp.
Her new friend laughed.
Well, now that you've sold all your soap, the Simpsons will surely have their lamp by Thanksgiving.
In fact, I'll promise you that it will arrive in time.
Rebecca continued.
Oh, please, may I run down and tell Emma Jane the good news?
She'll be so happy that we finished selling the soap.
Mr. Aladdin nodded, and Rebecca sped off down the lane.
As she got close to the wagon, she cried out, Emma Jane, Emma Jane, we're sold out.
Whatever do you mean, Emma Jane said, that's not possible.
Not impossible, Mr. Aladdin said as he approached Emma.
I've bought 300 cakes.
He took all of the boxes out of the wagon and promised to write to the soap company about the lamp for the Simpsons that very evening.
Rebecca climbed back into the wagon.
Mr. Aladdin wrapped the blanket over both girls and said his goodbyes.
Goodbye, Mr. Aladdin, Rebecca called back as they rode off.
Imogene carried on for a bit about how wonderful it was that the young man had bought all their soap and put the blanket around their knees.
Then she asked if Rebecca knew his name.
"'I forgot to ask properly,' she exclaimed.
"'I called him Mr. Aladdin because he was helping the Simpsons get their lamp.'
"'Oh, Rebecca,' Imogene said.
"'How could you call a perfect stranger by a nickname the first time you met him?'
"'Well, it's not a nickname exactly.'
And he did laugh.
Just before they got to Riverboro, each girl made a solemn promise to keep the lamp a secret.
They both agreed it would be a wonderful surprise for the Simpsons on Thanksgiving.
It took every effort for those two honest girls to keep the secret.
But they managed it.
