skirt and plain white shirtwaist with no frills except a pair of narrow ruffles dropping at an inward angle from each shoulder toward her waist.
The suit was strictly for Sundays. The middy made her look childish. The Manchester cloth would be too warm yet, stiffened as it was with percaline. And she was saving the new green skirt for the first day of school because it had been a gift from her parents and was the most adult of all her outfits. So she chose the utilitarian gray skirt and plain white blouse. When she was dressed, she eyed herself critically.
Her hair was perfect. Her skirt was dry. Her bandage gone. Her clothing sensible, sober, even matronly. What could he possibly find to fault her for?
Suddenly she realized what she was thinking, and her chin took on a stubborn thrust. Why should I have to worry about pleasing an old grouch like Theodore? He’s my land lord, not my lord!
She returned downstairs to find breakfast cooking, the table set, but the men still absent.
“Well, look at you! Now don’t you look pretty!”
“Do I?” Linnea smoothed the front of her white shirtwaist and looked at Nissa uncertainly. “Do I look old enough?”
Nissa hid a smile and gave the girl a thorough inspection over the tops of her wire-rimmed spectacles. “Oh, you look old, all right. Why, I’d say you look at least... oh... nineteen, anyway.”
“Do I really!”
Nissa had all she could do to keep from chuckling at the girl’s pleased expression, then Linnea’s tone lowered confidentially. “I’ll tell you something, Nissa. Ever since I saw Kristian I’ve been awfully worried about looking younger than some of my students.”
“Aw, go on,” Nissa growled, pulling her chin low. “You might even look twenty in that crisp little skirt. Turn around here. Let me get a gander at the back.” Linnea turned a slow circle while Nissa rubbed her chin studiously. “Yup! Twenty for sure!” she lied.
Again Linnea beamed, but the smile was followed by another sober expression as her hands pressed her waistband and she looked as if she were about to admit to a horrible crime. “I sometimes have... well, a little trouble, you might say. Acting grown up, I mean. My father used to scold me for being daydreamy and forgetting what I was about. But since I’ve been to Normal School I’ve been trying really hard to look mature and remember that I’m a lady. I thought the skirt helped.”
Nissa’s heart warmed toward the youngster. There she stood, all dressed in grown-up clothes, trying to act like she was ready to face the world, when she was scared out of her britches.
“I reckon you’re going to miss your family. We’re a strange bunch here, lots of new things to get used to.”
“Why, no! I mean... well, yes, I’m sure I’ll miss them, but—”
“You just remember,” Nissa interrupted. “Ain’t nothing stubborner nor bullheadeder than a bunch of hardheaded Norwegians. And that’s about all there is around here. But you’re the schoolteacher! You got a certificate says you’re smarter than all the rest of ‘em, so when they start givin’ you sass, you just stand up square and spit in their eye. They’ll respect that!”
Giving me sass? Linnea silently quailed. Were they all going to be like Theodore?
As if the thought materialized him, Theodore stepped through the door, followed by Kristian.
Catching sight of her, Theodore paused a moment before moving to the pail and washbasin. Kristian stopped in his tracks and openly stared.
“Good morning, Kristian.”
“G... good morning, Miss Brandonberg.”
“Goodness, you do get up early.”
Kristian felt like he’d swallowed a cotton wad. Not a word came out while he stood rooted, admiring his teacher’s fresh young face and pretty brown hair, all slicked up spruce and neat above a skirt and blouse that made her waist look thin as a willow whip.
“Breakfast is ready,” Nissa advised, moving around him. “Quit your dawdling.”
At the
The suit was strictly for Sundays. The middy made her look childish. The Manchester cloth would be too warm yet, stiffened as it was with percaline. And she was saving the new green skirt for the first day of school because it had been a gift from her parents and was the most adult of all her outfits. So she chose the utilitarian gray skirt and plain white blouse. When she was dressed, she eyed herself critically.
Her hair was perfect. Her skirt was dry. Her bandage gone. Her clothing sensible, sober, even matronly. What could he possibly find to fault her for?
Suddenly she realized what she was thinking, and her chin took on a stubborn thrust. Why should I have to worry about pleasing an old grouch like Theodore? He’s my land lord, not my lord!
She returned downstairs to find breakfast cooking, the table set, but the men still absent.
“Well, look at you! Now don’t you look pretty!”
“Do I?” Linnea smoothed the front of her white shirtwaist and looked at Nissa uncertainly. “Do I look old enough?”
Nissa hid a smile and gave the girl a thorough inspection over the tops of her wire-rimmed spectacles. “Oh, you look old, all right. Why, I’d say you look at least... oh... nineteen, anyway.”
“Do I really!”
Nissa had all she could do to keep from chuckling at the girl’s pleased expression, then Linnea’s tone lowered confidentially. “I’ll tell you something, Nissa. Ever since I saw Kristian I’ve been awfully worried about looking younger than some of my students.”
“Aw, go on,” Nissa growled, pulling her chin low. “You might even look twenty in that crisp little skirt. Turn around here. Let me get a gander at the back.” Linnea turned a slow circle while Nissa rubbed her chin studiously. “Yup! Twenty for sure!” she lied.
Again Linnea beamed, but the smile was followed by another sober expression as her hands pressed her waistband and she looked as if she were about to admit to a horrible crime. “I sometimes have... well, a little trouble, you might say. Acting grown up, I mean. My father used to scold me for being daydreamy and forgetting what I was about. But since I’ve been to Normal School I’ve been trying really hard to look mature and remember that I’m a lady. I thought the skirt helped.”
Nissa’s heart warmed toward the youngster. There she stood, all dressed in grown-up clothes, trying to act like she was ready to face the world, when she was scared out of her britches.
“I reckon you’re going to miss your family. We’re a strange bunch here, lots of new things to get used to.”
“Why, no! I mean... well, yes, I’m sure I’ll miss them, but—”
“You just remember,” Nissa interrupted. “Ain’t nothing stubborner nor bullheadeder than a bunch of hardheaded Norwegians. And that’s about all there is around here. But you’re the schoolteacher! You got a certificate says you’re smarter than all the rest of ‘em, so when they start givin’ you sass, you just stand up square and spit in their eye. They’ll respect that!”
Giving me sass? Linnea silently quailed. Were they all going to be like Theodore?
As if the thought materialized him, Theodore stepped through the door, followed by Kristian.
Catching sight of her, Theodore paused a moment before moving to the pail and washbasin. Kristian stopped in his tracks and openly stared.
“Good morning, Kristian.”
“G... good morning, Miss Brandonberg.”
“Goodness, you do get up early.”
Kristian felt like he’d swallowed a cotton wad. Not a word came out while he stood rooted, admiring his teacher’s fresh young face and pretty brown hair, all slicked up spruce and neat above a skirt and blouse that made her waist look thin as a willow whip.
“Breakfast is ready,” Nissa advised, moving around him. “Quit your dawdling.”
At the
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