her class. "I hope you are proud of both Heaven and
Tom."
Pa looked totally astounded as he glanced at
Tom, then flicked his eyes m
y way. For two solid
years Miss Deale had been writing him notes to tell
him how bright she thought we were. The Winnerrow
school was so delighted with what Miss Deale was
doing for deprived hill kids (sometimes considered
half-wits) they were allowing her to "advance" along
with us, from grade to grade.
"Why, that's a very nice thing to hear on a
beautiful Sunday afternoon," said Pa, trying to meet
her eyes and hold them. She refused to look at him, as
if afraid once she did, she couldn't look away. "I
always wanted to go on to acquire a higher education
myself, but never had the chance," extolled Pa. "Pa," said I, speaking up loud and sharp, "we've
decided to walk home . . . so you and Ma can leave
and forget about us."
"Don't wanna walk home!" cried Our Jane.
"Wanna ride!"
Near the doorway of the store Sarah stood watching with her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Pa bowed slightly to Miss Deale and said, "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Deale." He leaned to sweep Our Jane up in one arm, lifted Keith with the other, and out the door he strode, seeming to everyone in the store the only cultivated, charming Casteel the world had ever seen. Not one pair of lips was left together, all gaping as if at a miracle not to be
believed.
And again, despite all I'd said to warn her,
something admiring lit up the gullible sky-blue eyes
of my teacher.
It was a rare kind of perfect day, with birds
flying overhead, and autumn leaves softly falling. I
was like Keith, caught up in nature. I only half heard
what Tom was saying until I saw Fanny's dark eyes