I know how to lay bricks now.”
“Raise your arm above your head. I dare you.”
He scowled. “Don’t want to.”
“You have overworked yourself,” said Faith, setting his arm on the table. “A hearty supper and a good night’s sleep and you will be better by morning.”
“See?” said Peter. He pushed himself up. “I can do this. Even if they only pay me ninety cents a day, I can do this.” He fished into his pocket and drew out five coins.
“That is no slave wage,” said Faith. She stowed her books, tied by a leather strap, on a shelf.
“You forgot inflation,” Rosemary whispered into his ear. “I was at the butcher’s this afternoon. That could buy a good cut of meat.” She picked up the coins and slipped them into a pocket in her skirts.
The door opened and Edmund entered, tapping his fingers together and muttering numbers beneath his breath. He brightened when he saw Faith and Peter. “Ah! You’re back. Now we can eat! How was your first day at work?” He clapped Peter on the shoulder. Peter gripped the table and whimpered. Rosemary lowered him back into his chair and massaged his shoulders.
Edmund peered into the bowl of stew, stirring it with the ladle. “Is supper ready?”
Faith slapped his hand away. “Rosemary is in charge of this meal. She will tell us when it’s ready. Is it ready, Rosemary?”
Rosemary waved at the bowls. “The carrots will be hard, but if you don’t want to wait, help yourself.”
They didn’t wait long. After they’d eaten dinner, Faith stayed to help clean up. Peter reached for the dishes to help, and stopped when he saw Edmund and Faith staring at him. He gave Rosemary an apologetic grin, handed her the dish, and darted upstairs.
As Faith set some dried plates on the shelf beside her pile of schoolbooks, she brushed a piece of paper. Seeing it, she frowned. Then she picked it up and held it behind her back. “Edmund?” He was reaching for the door to the front. He turned around. She gazed at the floor and bit her lip. Rosemary looked up from washing the dishes.
Edmund stared at Faith. His eyes narrowed. “Faith?”
“I applied for my additional courses today.”
He sighed. “Show me the bill.”
Faith hesitated, then held out the paper. Edmund took it, took a deep breath, and peered at it. His face went red. “Ten dollars? Is this professor teaching you personally?”
Faith’s eyes turned to the floor.
“Does the university think I’m made of money?” Edmund threw the paper on the table. “How can it cost so much to teach something people already know? How do they expect us to afford this?”
Peter appeared at the stairwell door.
“My sewing —,” Faith began.
“Have you started on your sewing yet?” Edmund shouted. “Have you got your money yet? Maybe you should see your clients and ask for an advance?”
Rosemary flicked suds from her hand. “I’ll help.”
But Edmund was in full rant. “I pay fifty dollars a year for your education. I already put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. How can they expect me to do more?”
Faith bit her lip again.
“I said I’ll help!” Rosemary shouted.
A stunned silence fell. Everybody stared at her.
Rosemary stepped forward, fished in her pocket, and brought out two quarters. “We never talked about rent. We’ve been here two nights. How does a quarter a day sound?” She frowned at Peter’s look. He turned away and slipped quietly upstairs.
“Rosemary,” Faith began. “You already help around the house. We cannot ask for more.”
“Faith is right,” said Edmund. “We can afford this. We’ll afford it, somehow. We cannot take —”
“Take it,” Rosemary snapped. “Or, if you don’t, then don’t argue about money in front of me.”
Edmund and Faith lowered their gazes to the floor. Edmund reached out, hesitated, then plucked the quarters from Rosemary’s palm.
Grunting, Peter hauled a folded screen up the narrow stairs. He juggled it at the
“Raise your arm above your head. I dare you.”
He scowled. “Don’t want to.”
“You have overworked yourself,” said Faith, setting his arm on the table. “A hearty supper and a good night’s sleep and you will be better by morning.”
“See?” said Peter. He pushed himself up. “I can do this. Even if they only pay me ninety cents a day, I can do this.” He fished into his pocket and drew out five coins.
“That is no slave wage,” said Faith. She stowed her books, tied by a leather strap, on a shelf.
“You forgot inflation,” Rosemary whispered into his ear. “I was at the butcher’s this afternoon. That could buy a good cut of meat.” She picked up the coins and slipped them into a pocket in her skirts.
The door opened and Edmund entered, tapping his fingers together and muttering numbers beneath his breath. He brightened when he saw Faith and Peter. “Ah! You’re back. Now we can eat! How was your first day at work?” He clapped Peter on the shoulder. Peter gripped the table and whimpered. Rosemary lowered him back into his chair and massaged his shoulders.
Edmund peered into the bowl of stew, stirring it with the ladle. “Is supper ready?”
Faith slapped his hand away. “Rosemary is in charge of this meal. She will tell us when it’s ready. Is it ready, Rosemary?”
Rosemary waved at the bowls. “The carrots will be hard, but if you don’t want to wait, help yourself.”
They didn’t wait long. After they’d eaten dinner, Faith stayed to help clean up. Peter reached for the dishes to help, and stopped when he saw Edmund and Faith staring at him. He gave Rosemary an apologetic grin, handed her the dish, and darted upstairs.
As Faith set some dried plates on the shelf beside her pile of schoolbooks, she brushed a piece of paper. Seeing it, she frowned. Then she picked it up and held it behind her back. “Edmund?” He was reaching for the door to the front. He turned around. She gazed at the floor and bit her lip. Rosemary looked up from washing the dishes.
Edmund stared at Faith. His eyes narrowed. “Faith?”
“I applied for my additional courses today.”
He sighed. “Show me the bill.”
Faith hesitated, then held out the paper. Edmund took it, took a deep breath, and peered at it. His face went red. “Ten dollars? Is this professor teaching you personally?”
Faith’s eyes turned to the floor.
“Does the university think I’m made of money?” Edmund threw the paper on the table. “How can it cost so much to teach something people already know? How do they expect us to afford this?”
Peter appeared at the stairwell door.
“My sewing —,” Faith began.
“Have you started on your sewing yet?” Edmund shouted. “Have you got your money yet? Maybe you should see your clients and ask for an advance?”
Rosemary flicked suds from her hand. “I’ll help.”
But Edmund was in full rant. “I pay fifty dollars a year for your education. I already put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. How can they expect me to do more?”
Faith bit her lip again.
“I said I’ll help!” Rosemary shouted.
A stunned silence fell. Everybody stared at her.
Rosemary stepped forward, fished in her pocket, and brought out two quarters. “We never talked about rent. We’ve been here two nights. How does a quarter a day sound?” She frowned at Peter’s look. He turned away and slipped quietly upstairs.
“Rosemary,” Faith began. “You already help around the house. We cannot ask for more.”
“Faith is right,” said Edmund. “We can afford this. We’ll afford it, somehow. We cannot take —”
“Take it,” Rosemary snapped. “Or, if you don’t, then don’t argue about money in front of me.”
Edmund and Faith lowered their gazes to the floor. Edmund reached out, hesitated, then plucked the quarters from Rosemary’s palm.
Grunting, Peter hauled a folded screen up the narrow stairs. He juggled it at the
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