start calling. Neither of them had led me to think they were interested in me in any other way than as a member of our household. I was maybe being presumptuous to even think that one of them would accept my small gifts and attention.
Then a new thought hit me. What if I picked a girl—Matilda or Mary—and decided to court her and she flatly turned me down? It could happen.
The thought scared me. I remembered what had happened when I had the foolish notion that I could just walk back into Camellia’s life and she had announced instead that she was marrying Willie.
The idea of being rejected was so frightening that I decided, as I slopped the pigs and cared for the cows, that I would just hold back for the next several days and sorta look things over. I wanted to put out a few feelers to see if it appeared that either of the girls might favorably respond to being courted by Joshua Jones.
I was more sensitive to little things as I gathered around the breakfast table with the family that morning.
Matilda was telling a funny incident from school. One of the children had written a composition about winter. He had said in part, “The best thing about winter is that the ‘moskeytoes’ ”—Matilda spelled it for us—“fly south to bite other people.”
Matilda laughed merrily as she told it and Grandpa chuckled and Uncle Charlie grinned. Matilda was a lot of fun.
Matilda began to gather her school supplies and reach for her heavy winter wraps as soon as Grandpa had finished with our morning devotions. I had a sudden inspiration.
“Chester’s in his stall,” I said. “How would you like me to hitch him to the sleigh and drive you to school?”
She looked at me, her eyes big with unasked questions; then she threw her arms around my neck with a little squeal of delight.
I took that as her yes, and I grinned to myself as I shrugged into my heavy coat and headed for the barn while she finished her preparations. Maybe courting wasn’t so hard after all.
It was colder and another storm was dumping more snow. I was glad I had thought of driving Matilda to school. It would have been rather miserable walking.
I tucked the heavy lap robe closely about her and we started off, Chester tossing his head and snorting, anxious to get out to the open road for a good run. Matilda leaned into the wind, anticipating the speed of the open cutter skimming over the frozen ground.
I watched her face. She loved a good run. If she had been holding the reins, she no doubt would have given Chester his head and let him run at a full gallop. As it was, I let Chester do a bit more running than I normally did, just so that I could watch Matilda’s enjoyment.
When we got to the school I helped gather her things and climb from the sleigh. Her face was flushed—whether from excitement or the cold wind, I couldn’t tell.
“I’ll be back to pick you up after school,” I promised, and she flashed a beautiful smile.
I waited long enough to see her into the school building, noting as I did so the smoke curling up from the brick chimney. The Smith boy had done his work and the potbelly stove would be spilling its welcome warmth into the room.
Matilda turned and gave me a bit of a wave just before she closed the door. I waved back and clucked to Chester, who turned smartly around and headed back out the school gate.
I felt good about the little drive to school. Oh, I hadn’t made any kind of open statement or anything, but Matilda certainly had not been adverse to my company. I would just sort of keep my eyes open and see what the future days might bring.
But maybe while I was waiting, I should come up with some plan to sorta “test out” Mary.
My plan might have worked just fine had it not been for Will Sanders. I mean, the “wait and see” didn’t seem too practical when he turned up on our doorstep every few days.
I still didn’t care much for the guy. Grandpa’s midnight discussion with Uncle Charlie kept running through my