Yes, ma'am. Agnes's note said, "You manage the younger children. " "I help," Clara said. Wesley manages. "I cook. " "You're 12. " "Yes, ma'am. " Margaret was quiet for a moment. "What do you need? " she said, not to Calder.
"To Clara. " Clara blinked. It was the first time in recent memory that an adult had asked her that question directly, and she was briefly caught off guard by it. "Bigger cook," she said. The one here is too small and more lamp oil. We're going through it faster because the evenings are long now and everyone's up after dark.
And she stopped. Looked at Calder as if checking whether she was allowed to keep going. Keep going, Calder said. And something for Maisie to sleep with. She doesn't have anything.
They lost her bag somewhere between the county house and the train. And she's been using Nellie's extra blanket, but Nelly needs it back. And Maisie cried for an hour two nights ago, but didn't tell anyone because she didn't want to be trouble. Clara paused. She doesn't like being trouble.
The room was quiet. Margaret Vale looked at Clara for a long, unreadable moment. Then she opened her bag. It was a large bag. The bag of a woman who came prepared and produced a cloth rabbit stitched and worn.
The kind of thing that had clearly been a child's once, and had been kept. I brought several things, Margaret said, which was an unexpectedly human thing to hear from her. I wasn't sure what would be needed. She held the rabbit out for the four-year-old. Clara took it carefully.
Thank you, she said. It was my daughter's. Margaret said she's grown. She said it without visible emotion, matterof factly, but her hand had held on to the rabbit one beat longer than necessary before releasing it. She looked at Calder.
The schooling situation needs to be addressed within 2 weeks, she said formally. Not informally, I understand. In the porch railing, I'll get to it. This week, Mr. Boon, this week, he agreed.