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You're built to win it. Welcome to Snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us on snuescast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Cherry Slump. Tonight, we'll read the next part too, the box-car children written by school teacher, Gertrude Chandler Warner, and published in 1924. The Boxcar Children tells the story of four orphan children, Henry, Jesse, Violet, and Benny. They create a home for themselves in an abandoned boxcar in the forest. In the last episode, Henry gets more work to do from the doctor, this time with his siblings picking cherries at the doctor's home orchard. The doctor and his mother wonder at these hardworking and good-natured children, where do they come from? Who are their parents? Then the doctor notices an advertisement in the newspaper asking for anyone to notify a James Henry cordice if they find four missing children that match the mystery children's ages. Get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. The race. The Cordai steel mills stood a little aside from the city of Greenfield, as if they were a little too good to associate with common factories. James Henry Cordai sat in a huge leather chair in his private office. He was a man nearly 60 years of age whose dark brown hair was still untouched by gray. He had rather hard lines around his mouth, but softer ones around his eyes. Printed on the ground glass top of his door were these words in black and gold. J. H. Cordyce, President, Private. Once a year, J.H. Cordice allowed himself a holiday. This was Field Day. All through the spring and early summer months, boys were in training for miles around, getting ready for intervails' Field Day. not only only boys, but men also old and young, and girls of all ages into the bargain. The interest of the day centered on a free-for-all race of one mile, which everyone enjoyed, and a great many people entered. A prize of $25 was offered to the winner of this race, and also a silver trophy cup with little wings on its handles. Sometimes this cup was won by a middle-aged man, sometimes by a girl, and sometimes by a trained athlete. Mr. Cordy smiled about his eyes as he closed his desk, ordered his limousine, and went out and locked the door of his office. The mill had been closed down for the day. Everyone attended Field Day. Henry was washing the concrete drives at Dr. McAllister's at this moment. He heard the doctor call to him from the road so he promptly turned off the hose and ran out to see what he wanted. Hop in, commanded the doctor, not stopping his engine. You ought to go see the stunts at the the meet. It's field day." Henry did not wish to delay the doctor, so he hopped in. "'Can't go myself,' said Dr. McAllister. "'I'll just drop you off at the grounds. There's no charge for admittance. You just watch all the events and report to me who wins.

Henry tried to explain to his friend that he ought to be working, but there was actually no time.

And when he found himself seated on the bleachers and the stunts began,

he forgot everything in the world except the exciting events before his eyes. Soon the free-for-all running race was announced. What do they mean, free-for-all? Asked Henry of a small boy at his side. Why, just anybody? Explain the boy curiously. Didn't you ever see one? Didn't you see the one last year? No, said Henry. The boy laughed. When the boy turned to speak to him again, Henry was gone. He had gone, in fact, to the dressing room where boys of all sizes were putting on sandals and running trunks. A man stepped up to him quickly. One enter, he asked, no time to waste. Yes, replied Henry. The man tossed him a pair of white shoes and some blue trunks. He Do you like the look of Henry's face as he paused to ask in an undertone?

Where did you train? Never trained. Replyed Henry. I suppose you know these fellows have been trained in all year. Observe the man. You don't expect to win. Oh no. Replyed Henry, apparently shocked at the idea. But it's lots of fun to run, you know. He was dressed and ready by this time. How light he felt. He felt as if he could almost fly. Presently the contestants were all marshaled out to the running track. Henry was number four. Now, Henry had never been trained to run, but the boy possessed an unusual quantity of common sense. It's a mile race, he thought to himself, and it's the second half mile that counts. So it happened that this was the main thought in his mind when the starters gong sounded and the racers shot away down the track. In almost no time, Henry was far behind the first half of the runners. But strangely enough, he did not seem to mind this greatly. It's fun to run anyhow, he thought. It was fun, certainly. He felt as if his limbs were strung together on springs. He ran easily without effort, each step bounding into the next, like an elastic. After a few minutes of this, Henry had a new thought. Now you've tried how easy you can run. Let's see how fast you can run. And then, not only Henry himself, but the enormous crowd as well, began to see how fast he could run. Slowly he gained on the fellow ahead of him and passed him. With the next fellow as a goal, he gradually crept alongside and passed him with a spurt. The crowd shouted at self-horse. The field all along the chorus was black with people. Henry could hear them cheering for number four as he pounded by. Six runners remained ahead of him. Here was the kind of race the crowd loved, not an easily one affair between two runners, but a gradual victory between the best runner and overpowering odds. Henry could see the finish flag now in the distance. He began to spurt. He passed numbers 14 and 3. He passed 25, 6 and 1 almost in a bunch. Number 16 remained ahead. Then Henry began to think of winning. How much the $25 prize would mean to Jess and the rest? Number 16 must be passed. I'm going to win this race," he said quietly, in his own mind. Help that you I am. The thought lent him speed. 4. Number 4 yelled the crowd. Henry did not know that the fellow ahead of him had been ahead all the way, and just because he, Henry, had slowly gained over them all, the crowd loved him best. Henry waited until he could have touched him. He was within three yards of the wire. He bent double and put all his energy into the last elastic bound. He passed number sixteen and shot under the wire. Then the crowd went wild.

It scrambled over and under the fence, cheering and blowing its horns. Henry felt himself lifted on many shoulders and carried panting up to the reviewing stand. bowed laughing at the sea of faces and took the silver cup with its little wings in a sort of dream. It is a wonder he did not lose the envelope containing the prize, for he hardly realized when he took it, what it was.

Then somebody said, what's your name, boy? Henry felt himself lifted on many shoulders that called him to earth. He had to think quickly under cover of getting his breath. Henry James, he replied.

This was perfectly true as far as it went. In a moment the enormous signboard flashed out the name, Henry James, number four, age 13,ner of Freeferral

Meanwhile the man of the dressing room was busy locating Mr. Cordice of the Cordice Mills. He knew that was exactly the kind of story that old James Henry would like. Yes, sir, he said smiling.

I says to him, you don't expect a win, of course.

And he says to him, you don't expect a win, of course, and he says to me, oh no, but it's lots of fun to run, you know." Thank you, sir. Return Mr. Cordyce. That's a good story. Bring the youngster over here, if you don't mind When Henry appeared, a trifle shaken out of his days, and anxious only to get away, Mr. Cordy stretched out his hand. "'I like your spirit, my boy,' he said. I like your running, too. But it's your spirit that I like best. Don't ever lose it. Thank you," said Henry, shaking hands. And there was only one in the whole crowd that knew who was shaking hands with whom. Least of all, James Henry and Henry James. More education. With $25 in his hand, Henry felt like a millionaire as he edged through the crowd to the gate. That's the boy. He heard many a person say when he was forced to hold his silver cup in view out of harm's way. When Dr. McAllister drove into his yard, he found a boy washing the concrete drives as calmly as if nothing had happened. He chuckled quietly, for he had stopped at the fairgrounds for a few minutes himself, and held a little conversation with the scorekeeper. When Henry faithfully repeated the list of winners, however, he said nothing about it. What are you going to do with the prize? Query Dr. Mc McAllister? Put it in the savings bank, I guess. Replied Henry? You have an account? Asked his friend. No, but just says it's high time we started one. Good for Jess. Said the doctor, absently. I remember an old uncle of mine who put $200 in the savings bank and forgot all about it. He left it in there till he died, and it came to me. It amounted to $1,600. "'Few,' said Henry. He left it alone for over 40 years, you see. Explain Dr. McAllister. When Henry arrived at his little home in the woods with the $25, for he never thought of putting it in the bank before Jess saw it. He found a delicious lunch waiting for him. Jess had boiled the little vegetables in clear water, and the moment they were done she had drained off the water in a remarkable drainer and heaped them on the biggest dish with melted butter on top. His family almost forgot to eat while Henry recounted the details of the exciting race. And when he showed them the silver cup and the money, they actually did stop eating, hungry as they were. I said my name was Henry James. Repeated Henry. That's all right. So it is a firm jest. It's clever too. You can use that name for your bank book. So I can. Said Henry, delighted. I'll put it in the bank this very afternoon. And by the way, I brought something for dinner tonight. Just looked in the bag. There were a dozen smooth brown potatoes. I know how to cook those," said Jess nodding her head wisely,

you just wait. Can't wait hardly," Henry called back as he went to work. When he had gone, Benny frullicked around noisily with the dog. Benny, Jess exclaim suddenly, as she hung her dish towels up to dry, it's high time you learn to read. No school now, said Benny, hopefully. No, but I can teach you if I only had a primer. Let's make one suggested violet shaking her hair back. We have saved all the wrapping paper off the bundles you know. Just was staring off into space as she always did when she had a bright idea.

Violet.

She cried at last. Remember those chips? We could whittle out letters like type. Make each letter backwards, you know. And stamp them on paper, finished violet.

There would be only 26 and all. It wouldn't be awfully hard," said Jess. We wouldn't bother with capitals. What could we use for ink? Violet wandered, wrinkling her forehead. Blackberry juice,

fried jazz,

the two girls clapped their hands. Won't Henry be surprised when he finds that Benny can read? Now, from this conversation, Benny gathered that this type business would take his sisters quite a while to prepare. So he was not much worried about his part of the work. In fact, he sorted out chips very cheerfully and watched his teachers with interest as they dug carefully around the letters with the two knives. We'll teach him two words to begin with, set just. Then we won't have to make the whole alphabet at once. Let's begin to teach him C. That's easy, a great violet. And then we won't have to make but two letters, and e. And the other word will be me, cried Jess, so only three pieces of type in all violet. Jess cut the wiggly s because she had the better knife. While violet struggled with with the E, then just cut a wonderful M while Violet sewed the primer down the back and gathered a cup full of blackberries. As she sat by, crushing the juice from the berries with a stick, just planned the ink pad. We'll have to use a small piece of the washcloth I'm afraid. She said it last. But finally they were obliged to cut off only the uneven bit of cloth which hung around the edges.

These they used for stuffing for the pad and covered them with a pocket which violet carefully ripped from her apron. When this was sewed firmly into place and put into a small saucer, just poured on the purple juice. Even Benny came up on his hands and knees to watch her stamp the first S. It came out beautifully on the first page of the primer, purple and clean cut. The E was almost as good, and as for the M, Jess's hand shook with pure pride as she stamped it evenly on the page. At last the two words were completed. In fact, they were done long before Benny had the slightest idea his sisters were ready for him. He came willingly enough for his first lesson, but he could not tell the two words apart. Don't you see Benny?

Jess explained patiently. This one with the wiggly S says C. But Benny did not see. I'll tell you Jess said Violet at last.

Let's print each word again on a separate card. That's the way they do at school. And then let him point to see. The girls did this using squares of stiff brown paper. Then they called Benny. Very carefully, just explained again, which word said C. Hissing, like a huge snake, to show him how the S sounded. Then she mixed the cards and said encouragingly. Now Benny point to C. Benny did not move. He sat with his finger on his lip. But the children were nearly petrified with astonishment to see watch, cock his head on one side, and gravely put his paw on the center of the word. Now, this was only an accident. did not really know one of the words from the word. Now, this was only an accident. Watch did not really know one of the words from the other, but Benny thought he did. And was he going to let a dog get ahead of him? Not Benny. And less time than it takes to tell it. Benny had learned both words perfectly. Good old watch said Jess. It isn't really hard at all said Benny. Is it watch? During all this experiment, Jess had not forgotten her dinner. When you are living outdoors all the time, you do not forget things like that. In fact, both girls had learned to tell the time very accurately by the sun. Jess started up a beautiful little fire of cones. As they turned into red hot ashes and began to topple over one by one into the glowing pile, just laughed delightedly. She had already scrubbed the smooth potatoes and dried them carefully. She now poked them one by one into the glowing ashes with a stick from a birch tree. never a potato lit up dangerously. She gave it a poke into a new position. And when Henry found her, she was just rolling the charred balls out onto the flat stones. Burned them up? Quiried Henry? Burn Burned nothing. Cryed just energetically. You just wait. Can't wait hardly. Replied Henry, smiling. You said that a long time ago, said Benny. Well, isn't it true? Demanded Henry, rolling his brother over on the pine needles. Come," said Violet, breathlessly, forgetting to ring the bell. Hold them with leaves, directed Jess, because they're terribly hot. Knock them on the side and scoop them out with a spoon and put butter on top. The children did as the little cook requested. Sprinkle dawn a little salt from the salt shaker, and took a taste. Ah, said Henry. It's good," said Benny blissfully. It was about the most successful meal of all, in fact. When the children in later years recalled their different feasts, they always came back to the baked potatoes roasted in the ashes of the pine cones. Henry said it was because they were poked with a black birch stick.

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