Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy)

“Never mind.” Ellen could feel her face flushing but she strove for a smile. “I probably do sound funny to everyone here. None of you seem to realize that you all sound funny to me.”

Ellen knew her words sounded bitter, and to her consternation Hope’s cornflower eyes began to fill with tears. “Oh, never mind,” she said hurriedly, “have some more ice cream.” And she thrust the spoon at Hope before she could begin to truly cry.

Hope swallowed, sniffing. “I’m sorry. I meant to come and be friends with you.” She gave the group of nearby giggling girls one yearning glance. “I don’t have many friends. The girls at school think I’m stupid.”

“You’re not,” Ellen said quickly, for Hope was the closest thing she had to a friend, and Hope gave her a tremulous smile.

“I don’t think I am, but I am awfully clumsy. Oh, look, there’s Mama. I suppose we’re going now. I’ll see you at church?”

Hope clambered to her feet as Ellen nodded. She was quite sure Aunt Ruth would be bringing her to church. As Hope started forward, she tripped over the hem of her dress and then sprawled forward in an untidy heap on the grass, knocking Ellen’s elbow as she did so.

The bowl of ice cream flew from Ellen’s hand and a scoop of strawberry ice cream landed on the front of her dress, sliding down in all of its sticky pink glory to land in a melted puddle on her lap.

Ellen stared at it in horror. Hope struggled to her feet.

“Hope Cardle!” Mrs. Cardle marched over to the girls, her dress billowing out behind her like a sail. Her expression was an alarming mixture of fury and embarrassment.

Hope hung her head, her face scarlet. “I’m sorry, Mama—”

Mrs. Cardle’s gaze swung to Ellen, still sitting in the grass, paralyzed by the disaster. “I see you’ve managed to befriend the only girl in Seaton as clumsy as you,” she said.

Hope opened her mouth to reply to this unjust accusation, but her mother took her by the elbow and began marching away. Hope threw Ellen a look of desperate apology over one olive-green shoulder.

Ellen’s cheeks burned. The little spectacle had not gone unnoticed, and she saw the group of girls, like a gaggle of pecking, quarrelsome geese, glancing at her as they laughed behind their prim little hands.

Ellen dabbed at the sticky mess as best as she could with her handkerchief, dreading what Ruth would say when she saw her. She walked slowly over to the table in the shade where she could see her aunt chatting with several other grownups.

“Ellen Copley!” Ruth spoke in a hiss, and Ellen’s face burned. “Can you not even manage a simple dish of ice cream?” Ruth seemed to be about to launch into a diatribe, but perhaps something in Ellen’s expression, or the public arena for the confrontation, made her purse her lips and then give a brisk nod.

“You’ll have to walk home and clean yourself up. I hope that dress isn’t ruined, young miss.”

Uncle Hamish rose from the table, smiling easily. “I’ll take her home.” He bent to whisper in Ellen’s ear. “Talking with Hope Cardle, eh? That explains it.”

Tidied and changed, Ellen sat with Uncle Hamish on one of the rockers on the front porch, her feet barely skimming the floor. He handed her a tall glass of lemonade, which she sipped gratefully.

“I think I like lemonade better. Not quite so sticky.”

“So it is,” Hamish agreed.

Ellen twisted the cool glass between her palms. “Uncle Hamish, do you know where Da is?”

“Why, at the ice cream social, I imagine!” Her uncle’s voice sounded a little too jovial. “Enjoying himself like everyone else in this town.”

“But I didn’t see him there,” Ellen said slowly. A terrible certainty was growing in her that Da hadn’t stayed at the social, hadn’t wanted to. “I don’t think he’s happy here.”

Uncle Hamish cleared his throat, an uncomfortable sound, and patted Ellen’s knee. “It takes some getting used to, you can be sure. But your father will become accustomed, Ellen, just as you will. Wait till you start school! We’ll have you talking like a Yankee in no time.”

Ellen gazed at the street, empty with everyone still at the social. Outside the barber shop there was a red and white striped glass pole, the colors spiraling round and making her dizzy. “I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I,” she said quietly, and at Uncle Hamish’s questioning glance, explained. “Talk like a Yankee, I mean.”

“You won’t be able to help it.”

“But what about Da?” Ellen pressed. “Will he work in the store with you?”

Hamish shrugged, one finger inching towards his collar to give it an unconscious tug. “Your father will have to do whatever he has to do,” he said at last. “A man has to find his way in this world, Ellen, as best he can for himself. And that’s all I can tell you.”

That, Ellen thought disconsolately, was no answer at all.

Ellen had been in Seaton for several weeks when she woke up to a crisp September dawn. School was starting next week and she could hardly wait. She could already imagine the crackle of paper, the squeak of chalk on the blackboard, the desks, the books...!