The Revenant Read Free Page A

that could seat hundreds of girls.
    Rustic mission school, indeed.
    On the second floor, Miss Adair pointed out the cavernous lavatories with their rows of sinks and curious water closets with flush toilets. We even peered into a student room comparable in size to mine but crowded by two larger beds and additional furnishings. The windows were shaded with pretty gingham curtains, while crocheted doilies brightened the desk and small side tables.
    “Are all the rooms furnished with such homey adornments?”
    Miss Adair smiled. “The students often bring items with them. Some of the more fortunate girls bring their own dressers and beds. These girls knew they would be coming back to this very room, and so they left some of their decorative furnishings behind.” She closed the door. “It’s a little different upstairs.”
    “Are there more students upstairs?” I asked as we continued down the corridor.
    Miss Adair frowned. “Yes. The primaries reside above and take their lessons there as well.”
    “Primaries? They are little children, then?”
    “Some are small children. A considerable number are country girls over the age of twelve who are not quite as …  advanced as the other students. Their circumstances are less fortunate, and thus they must work for their tuition. Miss Crenshaw keeps them upstairs together to protect them. The girls from town are not as gentle with them as they should be.”
    “I well remember how it feels to be teased and condescended to as a charity case,” I said absently, then cringed at my own stupidity. Angeline McClure had never been condescended to in her life.
    Miss Adair looked at me searchingly for a moment before continuing. “The infirmary is upstairs as well, though many of the upper-school girls loathe to go there. They think they’ll catch lice from the primaries.” She paused by a door. “This is my room.”
    The door opened to a room smaller than mine—the same narrow bed, a wooden chair and desk, but a single window rather than the curved bay with two windows. Books were stacked unevenly on the desk and beneath her window. A small dresser stood near the door. The room was crowded and stuffy, but she’d enlivened it with a cheerful bed quilt and white curtains edged with lace.
    “It’s charming,” I said.
    Miss Adair shrugged. “Most of the teachers have rooms like this. You were given a room meant for four or more girls.” She did not look at me as she spoke, and her hands fluttered as though she were nervous.
    “Is there a reason I was given a student room?”
    She met my gaze then, and something in her expression made the back of my neck tingle. Sorrow darkened her eyes, but also … fear? She opened her mouth, and I leaned forward, expecting something lurid to pour from her lips.
    “Well,” she said, and then lowered her voice to a whisper, “it may not be my place to tell you—”
    Footsteps thumped in the corridor, and Miss Adair clamped her mouth shut. I turned to find Miss Crenshaw gliding toward us, her petticoats hissing on the wood floor and a frown on her face.
    “Whispering in the corridors already, ladies? Surely Miss McClure wishes to rest before supper.”
    “Yes, Miss Crenshaw,” said Miss Adair. She turned to smile at me. “I look forward to speaking with you later.” With a nod to the principal, she entered her room and shut the door.
    Miss Crenshaw walked me to my room, following closely as if I might bolt at any moment. “Supper is at six,” she said briskly as we walked. “Our gathering will be small and informal. As for tomorrow, we ordinarily rise at five-thirty sharp, but as classes are not yet in session, the bell will ring an hour later than usual. Breakfast will be served in the dining hall at seven o’clock, followed immediately by Chapel.” She paused before my door. “Until supper, then.”
    “Yes, Miss Crenshaw.” But she was already walking away, and I was not sure she even heard me.
    Supper was quiet, with