seen a girl who didn’t yelp in fright at the sight of a mouse.
“I’ll get a trap from home and set it for you.”
“Thank you, Kristian. I’m afraid if we don’t, he’ll eat up the books and papers — if he hasn’t already.”
At random she chose a book from the shelf. She let it fall open where it would. Petroleum, it said. She forgot about the mouse hole chewed at the edge of the pages and faced Kristian while reading aloud, “The observation that Horace Greeley made that ‘the man who makes two blades of grass grow where only one grew before is a benefactor to his race’ finds an analogy in the assertion that he who practically adds to the space of man’s life by increasing the number of hours wherein he can labor or enjoy himself is also a benefactor. The nineteenth century marked its course by a greater number of inventions, discoveries, and improvements, promotive of human civilization and happiness, than any like period that preceded it, and perhaps no feature of its record was more significant or beneficent than the improved methods of lighting our dwellings brought into use largely through the instrumentality of the great light bearer — petroleum.”
She slapped the book closed and the sound reverberatedthrough the room while she inhaled deeply, standing straight as a nail. He stared at her, wondering how a person could possibly learn to read such words, much less understand what they meant. He thought he had never known a smarter or prettier girl in his life, and welcomed the queer, light-bellied feeling that she inspired.
“I am going to love it here,” she said with quiet intensity, pinning Kristian with a beaming blue-eyed look of great resolve.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kristian answered, unable to think of anything else to say. “I’ll show you the rest, then I got to get back to the fields.”
“The rest?”
“Outside. Come on.” He turned and led the way through the door.
“Kristian.” At his name he stopped and turned.
“It’s never too early to begin teaching each other, is it?”
“No, Miss Brandonberg, I guess not.”
“Then let’s begin with the oldest rule of all. Ladies first.”
He blushed the color of a wild rose, hung a thumb from the rear pocket of his overalls, and backed up, waiting for her to pass before him. As she did, she said politely, “Thank you, Kristian. You may leave the door open behind us. It’s stuffy in here.”
Outside he showed her the pump and the empty coal shed, little more than a lean-to against the west wall of the building. The wheat fields crowded the edge of the school property to the north and east. To the west stood a tall row of cottonwoods, beneath which were the wooden privies with lattice walls guarding their entrances. The playground had two rope swings supported by a thick wooden spar, and a teeter-totter, also home made of a rough plank. On the east side of the building was a flat grassy stretch that looked like it was used as a ball diamond.
When they’d explored the entire schoolyard, Linnea lifted her eyes to the tip of the cupola and said impulsively, “Let’s ring the bell, Kristian, just to see what it sounds like.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Miss Brandonberg. Ring it and you’ll have every farmer off his rig and running to help.”
“Oh. It’s a distress signal?”
“Yes, ma’am. Same as the church bell, but that’s three miles in the other direction.” He thumbed toward the west.
She felt childish once again for having made the suggestion.“I’ll just have to wait until Monday then. How many students will I have?”
“Oh, that’s hard to say. A dozen. Fourteen maybe. Most of ‘em’s my cousins.”
“Your life’s been a lot different than mine, growing up with so much family so close around. All of my grandparents are dead, and there are no aunts and uncles in this part of the country, so mostly it’s been my parents and my two sisters and me.”
“You got sisters?” he asked, surprised.
“I’ll get a trap from home and set it for you.”
“Thank you, Kristian. I’m afraid if we don’t, he’ll eat up the books and papers — if he hasn’t already.”
At random she chose a book from the shelf. She let it fall open where it would. Petroleum, it said. She forgot about the mouse hole chewed at the edge of the pages and faced Kristian while reading aloud, “The observation that Horace Greeley made that ‘the man who makes two blades of grass grow where only one grew before is a benefactor to his race’ finds an analogy in the assertion that he who practically adds to the space of man’s life by increasing the number of hours wherein he can labor or enjoy himself is also a benefactor. The nineteenth century marked its course by a greater number of inventions, discoveries, and improvements, promotive of human civilization and happiness, than any like period that preceded it, and perhaps no feature of its record was more significant or beneficent than the improved methods of lighting our dwellings brought into use largely through the instrumentality of the great light bearer — petroleum.”
She slapped the book closed and the sound reverberatedthrough the room while she inhaled deeply, standing straight as a nail. He stared at her, wondering how a person could possibly learn to read such words, much less understand what they meant. He thought he had never known a smarter or prettier girl in his life, and welcomed the queer, light-bellied feeling that she inspired.
“I am going to love it here,” she said with quiet intensity, pinning Kristian with a beaming blue-eyed look of great resolve.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kristian answered, unable to think of anything else to say. “I’ll show you the rest, then I got to get back to the fields.”
“The rest?”
“Outside. Come on.” He turned and led the way through the door.
“Kristian.” At his name he stopped and turned.
“It’s never too early to begin teaching each other, is it?”
“No, Miss Brandonberg, I guess not.”
“Then let’s begin with the oldest rule of all. Ladies first.”
He blushed the color of a wild rose, hung a thumb from the rear pocket of his overalls, and backed up, waiting for her to pass before him. As she did, she said politely, “Thank you, Kristian. You may leave the door open behind us. It’s stuffy in here.”
Outside he showed her the pump and the empty coal shed, little more than a lean-to against the west wall of the building. The wheat fields crowded the edge of the school property to the north and east. To the west stood a tall row of cottonwoods, beneath which were the wooden privies with lattice walls guarding their entrances. The playground had two rope swings supported by a thick wooden spar, and a teeter-totter, also home made of a rough plank. On the east side of the building was a flat grassy stretch that looked like it was used as a ball diamond.
When they’d explored the entire schoolyard, Linnea lifted her eyes to the tip of the cupola and said impulsively, “Let’s ring the bell, Kristian, just to see what it sounds like.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Miss Brandonberg. Ring it and you’ll have every farmer off his rig and running to help.”
“Oh. It’s a distress signal?”
“Yes, ma’am. Same as the church bell, but that’s three miles in the other direction.” He thumbed toward the west.
She felt childish once again for having made the suggestion.“I’ll just have to wait until Monday then. How many students will I have?”
“Oh, that’s hard to say. A dozen. Fourteen maybe. Most of ‘em’s my cousins.”
“Your life’s been a lot different than mine, growing up with so much family so close around. All of my grandparents are dead, and there are no aunts and uncles in this part of the country, so mostly it’s been my parents and my two sisters and me.”
“You got sisters?” he asked, surprised.
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