Ticktock and Jim — Keith Robertson

“Someone has to stay home to give Colonel Flesher that Jersey calf,” said Mr. Meadows. “Since we are the only men around the place, it looks as if you're elected.” “O.K. I'll stay. I don't mind,” Jim answered cheerfully, if not too accurately. He did mind very much. “I'm sure everything will be safe with you,” continued Mr. Meadows as he climbed in the car. “Oh, I'll take care of things,” said Jim nonchalantly. He watched the car drive off. His father, mother and sister Jean were all going into town for the afternoon while he stayed at home alone. He felt rather proud that his father had called him a man, but that didn't make up for the disappointment of not going with them. He went over to sit on the edge of the front porch, where he forlornly kicked his heels against the lattice work. It was a beautiful spring day with a warm sun shining, but Jim was in no mood to appreciate the wonders of nature. His small brown face looked very mournful as he sat there feeling sorry for himself. Something exciting was certain to happen in town, and he would miss it. He wondered how long the family had been gone now. Jumping up, he ran inside the house and returned with a large gold watch. “Quarter past one,” he said aloud. Doubtfully, he held the watch to his ear. “Ticktock, ticktock,” came the answer. It seemed impossible that it was only a quarter past one; it would be almost four hours before the family returned. Although it was a form of treason to doubt that watch, Jim peered through the kitchen door to compare it with the kitchen clock. The watch was right. It promised to be a long dismal afternoon.