Crow Lake by Mary Lawson Page B

any more questions because Miss Carrington was too close.
    “Hello,” Aunt Annie said, putting down her basket of beans and standing up to greet her. “I understand you’re Kate’s teacher. I’m Annie Morrison.”
    They shook hands, rather formally. Aunt Annie said, “Would you like a cold drink? Or tea? You’ve walked from the village?”
    “Yes,” Miss Carrington said. “Thank you. I’d love some tea. Hello, Kate. I see you’re hard at work.” She gave me a faint smile, and I saw that she was nervous. I wasn’t noticing much, those days, but I noticed that because it was so unusual.
    “Kate, do you think you could make us a pot of tea?” Aunt Annie asked. “You could use the best china, don’t you think? As it’s Miss Carrington?” She smiled at Miss Carrington and said, “Kate makes the best pot of tea of anyone I know.”
    I got up and went into the house and put the kettle on. The house was very quiet. Bo was in our bedroom— Aunt Annie had put her there for her afternoon nap and Bo had roared her head off, but now she seemed to have gone to sleep.
    While the kettle was boiling I climbed onto a chair and got down my mother’s best teapot from the high shelf in the kitchen. The pot was round and smooth and a rich cream colour and had a branch of an apple tree painted on it, with several dark green leaves and two very red apples. The apples were not only painted but were raised, so that you could feel their roundness with your hands. There was a small cream jug and a covered sugar bowl to go with it, and six cups and six saucers and six little plates, all of them with apples on and none of them with chips. Aunt Annie had told me that the tea service was a wedding present to my parents from a lady in New Richmond and that it would be mine when I was older, but that I could use it now, if I liked, when especially important people came to call. I knew I was supposed to be pleased.
    I warmed the pot and made the tea. I put the pot on the best tray and covered it with the tea cozy. I set out two cups and saucers, the milk and sugar, and carried it carefully to the door. I could see Miss Carrington and Aunt Annie through the screen door. Miss Carrington was saying, “I hope you won’t mind, Miss Morrison. I hope you won’t take it amiss.”
    Aunt Annie saw me and got up to open the door for me.
    She said, “Thank you Kate. You’ve set things out very nicely. Now then, Miss Carrington and I have things to discuss. Do you think you could take the beans into the kitchen and finish them for me? Or take them to the beach, if you prefer. Which would you prefer?”
    “The beach,” I said, not caring one way or the other. I gathered up the beans and the pot and the knife and walked down the veranda steps and around the corner of the house. Just around the corner I dropped the knife. It must have been right at my feet, but the grass was long and I couldn’t see it. I carefully combed the grass with my toes, holding the beans and their pot out to the side, and I heard Miss Carrington say, “I realize it’s none of my business, but I felt I had to speak. They’re all bright children, of course, but Matt is more than that. He has a love of learning—he is a scholar, Miss Morrison. A natural scholar. He is the cleverest child I have ever taught. Much the cleverest. And he has only the one year of high school left—”
    “Two years, surely,” Aunt Annie said.
    “No, just one. He skipped a grade, you see. So although he’s two years younger than Luke, he’s only one year behind. He’ll take his exams next spring. And he will win a scholarship to university. Certainly. Beyond any question.”
    There was silence. My toes came up against something cool and hard. I bent down and picked up the knife.
    Aunt Annie said, “Would it cover everything? All of his living expenses? His lodgings?”
    “Well no. But it would cover his tuition. And something could be sorted out about his lodgings. I’m sure it