“Don’t. You’re scaring me.” She pulled the straw behind him down over his face. “Mam say what he was like?”

“It’s not a he.” He caught both of her hands and held them out of mischief.

“A lady? A lady teacher?” He let go as Sarah scooted to the end of the stall and jumped to the floor to shake out her skirts. “No fooling, David?” She picked at the straw stuck in her braids, managing to pull as much hair out of the ties as straw.

“No fooling,” He slid to the floor and brushed off her back.

“You think Mam’d let me go over to Karen’s? It’s nowhere near suppertime. Karen’ll know everything. Her pa, Mr. Cogswell, is on the school board.” Sarah chattered as David followed her into the pale sunshine and pushed the shed door shut. A sharp wind, blowing out of the north, snatched it from his hands and banged it. Sarah pulled her top skirt over her arms and ran for the kitchen door.

The cold light showed the house to disadvantage; the wood was weathered gray and the screens were patched in half a dozen places. The house had been carefully husbanded over the years, effort taking the place of money, and was tidy and serviceable. A round face peeked at them through the kitchen curtains. Moments later the porch door opened and the doorway was filled by a short woman of considerable girth, with a wide, generous mouth and eyes warm with love and cooking.

“Where’ve you two been? Out without a wrap. Catch your death, I tell you. You stand there by the stove, Sare, until that color goes off your nose. Davie, close that pneumonia hole and stand here by your sister.”

“Mam”-Sarah squeezed a word in as she was shepherded to the big cook stove-“David said you said there was a lady teacher coming. Can I go to Karen’s?”

“Is Pa back to the mine?” Mam pulled back the curtain and looked around the yard.

“Where else was Pa ever known to go?” David said. His mother shot him a reproving look.