By this time, we’d missed our first recess and gone straight into lunchtime. The children had been remarkably good, even Flynn and Cymbeline, all sitting quietly with their books. Many of whom couldn’t read much of them. Life had been hard for them, even the Barnes children who had everything except what mattered most—a mother. Martha and Elsa appeared to be the most fortunate. They had both parents and a father with a good livelihood. I might rely on them to help me with some of the little ones.
“You’ve been very good, and we worked through our first recess, so you may all have an extra fifteen minutes for lunch.”
Flynn’s hand popped up.
“Yes, Flynn?”
“Do we have to eat first before we go outside?”
“Yes, please. Now you may all return your books to the shelf, get your lunch, and come back to your seats to eat.”
I watched as they put their books away and grabbed their lunch pails and returned to their seats. All but Louisa. She had no lunch. My own stomach, so often empty during my childhood, rumbled in sympathy. Without a word, I fetched mine, intending to give her half. I’d learned to live on little, and I’d had that large breakfast. I halted by the window, watching a pair of winter sparrows flirting on the tree in front of the school. By the time I returned to the front, the situation had been taken care of by the children. Sitting before Louisa were two half sandwiches—not of the same sandwich, as one was on thick brown bread and the other white—an apple, and a boiled egg. I took a look around the room, but everyone’s head was down. Josephine only had one half of her sandwich left. Theo was missing an apple. Alma was taking a bite out of one half of a dark bread sandwich. She couldn’t have eaten the other half that fast, given the size of the bread. Elsa had an egg on her desk, but Martha did not. It didn’t take much sleuthing to figure out Louisa’s benefactors.
Louisa looked up at me, the question in her eyes—was she allowed to take the food? I nodded and went back to my desk. Choked up, I kept my head down so the children wouldn’t see how moved I was by their kindness. They’d taken my rules seriously, it seemed.
We all ate in silence. Louisa scarfed every morsel of her gifted lunch. The others finished theirs, and I dismissed them to play outside. Everyone bolted from their seats, clearly joyful to get outside for some exercise. They all clambered into their coats and headed outdoors. Shouts of glee followed.
I looked up to see that Louisa remained at her seat. There were dark quarter moons under her eyes.
“Don’t you want to play?” I asked.
“Would it be all right if I took a nap over by the stove?”
“Didn’t you sleep last night?” I asked.
A look of such misery crossed her face that it chilled me to the core. “Pa had things for me to do the last few nights, so I haven’t been able to sleep much.”
“You may lie down by the fire,” I said as I walked over to the coatrack. “But here, sleep on my coat. The floor’s dirty.”
She looked down at the front of her dirty dress. “No, Miss Cooper. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I nodded and said no more. I knew all about shame.
Chapter 12
Alexander
* * *
When we came home from our first day of school, the older children tumbled from the sleigh and ran to play in the last few minutes of light. This time of year, the days were short. Miss Cooper, tucked beside me, lifted the blanket from around her lap and allowed me to assist her out of the sleigh. Cymbeline, pretty as a picture in her red coat and matching hat, was fast asleep in the middle seat. With her hat askew and her thick black lashes splayed over her cheekbones, she looked more like the baby she’d once been. Whereas when I’d picked them all up at school, she’d marched right behind the twins looking pleased with herself and quite grown up. My heart ached a little, thinking of her childhood slipping away before my eyes. Soon, my house would be empty of all the noise and chaos. What would I have left then?
“Poor mite,” I said. “Tired out from her first day of school.”
“She did very well for being so young,” Miss Cooper said. “Toward the end of the day, she grew tired and unable to sit still, so I had her clean the erasers and bring in kindling.”
I chuckled. “Giving her tasks is a great solution to her naughtiness.”
I lifted Cymbeline from the sleigh and carried her toward the door.
Jasper stepped outside to greet us. “Welcome home.” He held open the door, and Miss Cooper passed through with me right behind her.
The moment we entered the house, Cymbeline’s eyes flew open. “Papa, I was very good at school.”
I set her on her feet and knelt on my knees to help her out of her coat and hat. “I’m proud to hear this good report.”
Miss Cooper, next to me, unbuttoned her coat and handed it to Jasper, who hung it in the closet.
“It was hard to