Elsie's Rolling Acorn

Elsie found an acorn as big as her fist, lying under the ladder of her treehouse.

It was red-brown and shiny. She wanted it more than anything.

Her treehouse sat in the widest branch of a tall, leaning tree. Every board played a little tune when you stepped on it. Nobody thought that was strange. It was just how the tree was.

Elsie had a row of acorns on the windowsill, from the tiniest to the biggest. The big red one would go at the end. Then the row would be finished.

She climbed up, hum-te-hum, hum-te-hum, and set the acorn down.

It rolled away.

She caught it and set it down again. It rolled away again, across the floor and under the bench.

"Stay!" said Elsie.

A squirrel sat on the windowsill, nibbling a nut. He was only there for his lunch. He did not look up.

Elsie tried a third time. She held the acorn very tight and put it down very slowly. Just as she let go, it rolled off, bumped the whole row, and the little acorns went tumbling down through the gaps in the floor. Plink, plink, plink.

Elsie's face went hot. Her hands went tight.

"I am ANGRY!" she shouted, and she stomped.

The boards went CLANG-A-LANG-A-CLANG. The squirrel dropped his nut and ran up the branch.

Elsie stomped again, and the tune was loud and crashing. Then she stomped slower. The tune came out slow and low. She stomped slower still, and the boards hummed, hum, hum, hum.

Her hands came loose. Her breath came out long.

Then she saw it. The big acorn had rolled to the low corner and sat there, quite still. The whole floor leaned that way, because the tree did.

"Oh," said Elsie.

She climbed down and found her little acorns in the grass. She carried them up and lined them in the low corner, tiny to biggest. At the end she set the big red one.

It did not roll. The boards hummed softly, and the squirrel came back for his nut.