Standing beside Pennyfeather's enormous silent figure, Cara watched Belin twirling in the sunshine.
"What's the matter with Belin?" she blurted out. During her short acquaintance with Pennyfeather Cara had detected the giant's devotion to the children. It seemed right that she ask him how to solve the puzzle of the wild child.
"Tis not mine to tell," Pennyfeather's deep voice rumbled. It was not spoken unkindly.
"Will I be able to help her?"
The silent man towered over Cara's diminutive figure. Unlike her reaction to Julian, she found nothing threatening in the man's presence. Cara met his inspection calmly. Shaggy brows knitted over deepset eyes, the old man frowned down at the young governess. His glance was neither insulting nor impertinent. The pleated headdress covering her hair caused his eyes to crinkle in merriment. After a thorough scrutiny, Pennyfeather nodded his head, indicating his approval.
"If anyone can help the lass, I think you can."
Pennyfeather's heartening words rang in Cara's ears on the trip back to the Hall. However that evening as she waited for the children's arrival her heart was heavy with trepidation.
Chapter Four
The schoolroom door opened and Richard entered. At his well groomed, yet closed-in expression, Cara sighed. Gone was the boy, painted face aglow, who had leaped out of a tree brandishing an Indian tomahawk.
"Richard, could you do me a favor?" Cara asked.
"I suppose so," he answered, far from enthusiastically.
"Despite the fact that the days are warm it does get a bit cool once the sun goes down. I thought perhaps you could take care of the fire each evening. I can do it but I thought you should be in charge. Belin might be able to help but she is still very young."
"Oh, rather," the boy drawled, trying to hide his elation. He reached for the largest log and began to drag it over to the fireplace.
"Would you like me to show you how an Indian makes a fire?" Cara asked diplomatically.
"Oh, rather!"
Kneeling down in front of the fireplace Cara told him how to lay the fire, starting with kindling and building up to the larger logs. Soon Richard's coat was off and he was immersed in his project. Returning to her chair Cara noticed that Belin had entered, standing just inside the doorway, her hands behind her back.
"Oh, Belin, I'm glad you've come to join us." Cara kept her voice cheerful, although her heart sank at the sight of the filthy child. Like the night before, her dress was streaked and her hair tangled. Preparing herself for the fight to come, Cara sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion. "You'll have to come over here if you want to hear the story. Richard's working on a fire for us, so everything will be nice and cozy."
Rigidly the child approached until she stood directly in front of Cara. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and an inconsolable sadness in the brown eyes that shrank before Cara's glance. Slowly Belin withdrew her hands from behind her back and placed them in Cara's lap, then closed her eyes waiting for the inspection. As she looked down at the hands in her lap, Cara understood the root of Belin's rebellion.
Between each pudgy finger of both hands there was a tiny webbing of skin.
Pity made her reach out to Belin but she dropped her hands before she touched the child. Angrily Cara wondered why no one had told her about the slight deformity. It explained so much of the child's behavior. Schooling her voice to it's most matter-of-fact, she picked up the tiny cold hands in her own warm ones.
"Why they're perfectly clean, Belin." She had to smile. Belin had taken Cara at her word and had washed her hands in order to participate in the treats. But, only her hands. From the wrists up, water had not touched her body. "Here, I'll pour you some chocolate."
The child relaxed, her body sagging in her relief that Cara hadn't mentioned her hands. Cautiously she peeked up at her governess. Her face was a complex of fear and puzzlement. The fear won.
"What's the matter with Belin?" she blurted out. During her short acquaintance with Pennyfeather Cara had detected the giant's devotion to the children. It seemed right that she ask him how to solve the puzzle of the wild child.
"Tis not mine to tell," Pennyfeather's deep voice rumbled. It was not spoken unkindly.
"Will I be able to help her?"
The silent man towered over Cara's diminutive figure. Unlike her reaction to Julian, she found nothing threatening in the man's presence. Cara met his inspection calmly. Shaggy brows knitted over deepset eyes, the old man frowned down at the young governess. His glance was neither insulting nor impertinent. The pleated headdress covering her hair caused his eyes to crinkle in merriment. After a thorough scrutiny, Pennyfeather nodded his head, indicating his approval.
"If anyone can help the lass, I think you can."
Pennyfeather's heartening words rang in Cara's ears on the trip back to the Hall. However that evening as she waited for the children's arrival her heart was heavy with trepidation.
Chapter Four
The schoolroom door opened and Richard entered. At his well groomed, yet closed-in expression, Cara sighed. Gone was the boy, painted face aglow, who had leaped out of a tree brandishing an Indian tomahawk.
"Richard, could you do me a favor?" Cara asked.
"I suppose so," he answered, far from enthusiastically.
"Despite the fact that the days are warm it does get a bit cool once the sun goes down. I thought perhaps you could take care of the fire each evening. I can do it but I thought you should be in charge. Belin might be able to help but she is still very young."
"Oh, rather," the boy drawled, trying to hide his elation. He reached for the largest log and began to drag it over to the fireplace.
"Would you like me to show you how an Indian makes a fire?" Cara asked diplomatically.
"Oh, rather!"
Kneeling down in front of the fireplace Cara told him how to lay the fire, starting with kindling and building up to the larger logs. Soon Richard's coat was off and he was immersed in his project. Returning to her chair Cara noticed that Belin had entered, standing just inside the doorway, her hands behind her back.
"Oh, Belin, I'm glad you've come to join us." Cara kept her voice cheerful, although her heart sank at the sight of the filthy child. Like the night before, her dress was streaked and her hair tangled. Preparing herself for the fight to come, Cara sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion. "You'll have to come over here if you want to hear the story. Richard's working on a fire for us, so everything will be nice and cozy."
Rigidly the child approached until she stood directly in front of Cara. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and an inconsolable sadness in the brown eyes that shrank before Cara's glance. Slowly Belin withdrew her hands from behind her back and placed them in Cara's lap, then closed her eyes waiting for the inspection. As she looked down at the hands in her lap, Cara understood the root of Belin's rebellion.
Between each pudgy finger of both hands there was a tiny webbing of skin.
Pity made her reach out to Belin but she dropped her hands before she touched the child. Angrily Cara wondered why no one had told her about the slight deformity. It explained so much of the child's behavior. Schooling her voice to it's most matter-of-fact, she picked up the tiny cold hands in her own warm ones.
"Why they're perfectly clean, Belin." She had to smile. Belin had taken Cara at her word and had washed her hands in order to participate in the treats. But, only her hands. From the wrists up, water had not touched her body. "Here, I'll pour you some chocolate."
The child relaxed, her body sagging in her relief that Cara hadn't mentioned her hands. Cautiously she peeked up at her governess. Her face was a complex of fear and puzzlement. The fear won.
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