what that was all about. Henry told me, but it didn’t make much sense to me.” Hank shook his head. “I’m wonderin’ if we made a mistake bringin’ in a lady teacher fresh from teachin’ school. Maybe we should’ve kept old man Shanks. He could be cranky, but I never worried about what he was teachin’ my young’uns.”
Joel clapped Hank’s shoulder. “I reckon we got used to Mr. Shanks and his ways. But every teacher has his or her own way of teachin’, just like every farmer has his own way of farmin’.” Hank was one of the men who had told Joel he was addlepated for digging irrigation ditches and letting some of his soil rest each year rather than planting every acre. “I say give her a chance. The children sure seem to like her.”
“Oh, I’ll grant you that. All three o’ mine think she’s dandy. ’Specially Will – he’d been pretty scared about startin’ school. But now he’s all excited about goin’.”
Hank had just described Robert’s feelings, too. Joel looked across the small worship room to Miss Amsel, who stood with her head tipped and an attentive smile on her face while Miz Saltzmann yakked away. That woman’s never-ceasing blather could try the patience of Job, but Miss Amsel didn’t appear at all annoyed. Apparently her kind ways extended beyond the children, and she grew more appealing to Joel by the minute.
He jerked his attention to Hank again. “I think we oughtta just leave her be an’ let her teach. I thought Shanks was rough on the kids, but we let him do his job his way. Shouldn’t we give Miss Amsel the same consideration, at least for now?”
Hank ducked his head and toed the floor. “I reckon you’re right, Joel. But . . .” He glanced at the teacher, his brows low. “When she comes callin’ at my house this week, I plan to ask her about some of those peculiar goings-on. I’m on the town council, you know, an’ it’s part of my job to make sure our youngsters are gettin’ the right kind of learnin’.”
Edythe felt like a honeysuckle vine swarmed by bees. She smiled and answered the womenfolk’s questions politely, but inwardly she hoped for rescue. And rescue eventually arrived in the form of Mrs. Kinsley, who charged into the group and took hold of Edythe’s elbow.
“ ’Scuse my interruptin’,” the woman said, “but Miss Amsel will be makin’ the rounds to your houses, where you can talk to your heart’s content. We gotta be gettin’ home now.” Luthenia sent a no-nonsense look around the circle of disappointed faces. “Have a blessed Lord’s day, ladies.” She tugged Edythe away from the group.
On the wagon seat, Edythe heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I wondered how I would make my escape. The ladies asked question after question, but” – she crinkled her brow – “none related to teaching. They were all very . . . personal.”
Mrs. Kinsley chuckled. “They’re searchin’ for somethin’ good they can share around the quiltin’ frame or at Ladies’ Mission Society.”
Edythe frowned. “It’s rather disheartening to think their friendliness holds ulterior motives.”
“Now, don’t be thinkin’ ill of the whole town ’cause of what I said. They’re not so much malicious as curious.” Mrs. Kinsley gave the reins a gentle pull, guiding the horse around a sizable pothole in the street. “Town council needs to get those potholes filled – a body could be jarred clean off the seat if a wagon wheel clunked through one.” She whisked a quick glance at Edythe. “Y’see, not much exciting happens in Walnut Hill, so a new person in town makes a mighty big stir. Just mind what you say, knowin’ it’ll all be repeated.”
Edythe sat in silence, digesting Mrs. Kinsley’s advice the rest of the way home. Mrs. Kinsley drew the wagon behind the house and called, “Whoa there, Gertie.” The old mare sagged her head, as if happy to be allowed to stop. Mrs. Kinsley set the brake, then turned to Edythe. “I’m
Joel clapped Hank’s shoulder. “I reckon we got used to Mr. Shanks and his ways. But every teacher has his or her own way of teachin’, just like every farmer has his own way of farmin’.” Hank was one of the men who had told Joel he was addlepated for digging irrigation ditches and letting some of his soil rest each year rather than planting every acre. “I say give her a chance. The children sure seem to like her.”
“Oh, I’ll grant you that. All three o’ mine think she’s dandy. ’Specially Will – he’d been pretty scared about startin’ school. But now he’s all excited about goin’.”
Hank had just described Robert’s feelings, too. Joel looked across the small worship room to Miss Amsel, who stood with her head tipped and an attentive smile on her face while Miz Saltzmann yakked away. That woman’s never-ceasing blather could try the patience of Job, but Miss Amsel didn’t appear at all annoyed. Apparently her kind ways extended beyond the children, and she grew more appealing to Joel by the minute.
He jerked his attention to Hank again. “I think we oughtta just leave her be an’ let her teach. I thought Shanks was rough on the kids, but we let him do his job his way. Shouldn’t we give Miss Amsel the same consideration, at least for now?”
Hank ducked his head and toed the floor. “I reckon you’re right, Joel. But . . .” He glanced at the teacher, his brows low. “When she comes callin’ at my house this week, I plan to ask her about some of those peculiar goings-on. I’m on the town council, you know, an’ it’s part of my job to make sure our youngsters are gettin’ the right kind of learnin’.”
Edythe felt like a honeysuckle vine swarmed by bees. She smiled and answered the womenfolk’s questions politely, but inwardly she hoped for rescue. And rescue eventually arrived in the form of Mrs. Kinsley, who charged into the group and took hold of Edythe’s elbow.
“ ’Scuse my interruptin’,” the woman said, “but Miss Amsel will be makin’ the rounds to your houses, where you can talk to your heart’s content. We gotta be gettin’ home now.” Luthenia sent a no-nonsense look around the circle of disappointed faces. “Have a blessed Lord’s day, ladies.” She tugged Edythe away from the group.
On the wagon seat, Edythe heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I wondered how I would make my escape. The ladies asked question after question, but” – she crinkled her brow – “none related to teaching. They were all very . . . personal.”
Mrs. Kinsley chuckled. “They’re searchin’ for somethin’ good they can share around the quiltin’ frame or at Ladies’ Mission Society.”
Edythe frowned. “It’s rather disheartening to think their friendliness holds ulterior motives.”
“Now, don’t be thinkin’ ill of the whole town ’cause of what I said. They’re not so much malicious as curious.” Mrs. Kinsley gave the reins a gentle pull, guiding the horse around a sizable pothole in the street. “Town council needs to get those potholes filled – a body could be jarred clean off the seat if a wagon wheel clunked through one.” She whisked a quick glance at Edythe. “Y’see, not much exciting happens in Walnut Hill, so a new person in town makes a mighty big stir. Just mind what you say, knowin’ it’ll all be repeated.”
Edythe sat in silence, digesting Mrs. Kinsley’s advice the rest of the way home. Mrs. Kinsley drew the wagon behind the house and called, “Whoa there, Gertie.” The old mare sagged her head, as if happy to be allowed to stop. Mrs. Kinsley set the brake, then turned to Edythe. “I’m
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