earn the desks closest to the front; the last are sadly relegated to the shadows in back. It's farthest from the stove and the lamps and the windows."
"Sounds miserable," I said.
And to my delight, Zora laughed, a soft, naughty sound. "It's is."
"Secretly, you're abeast, aren't you?"
"There will be time enough for sainthood once I'm married," she said.
Then, with a strength I never would have thought possible, she yanked my arm, pulling me down an alley. Our forcible departure from the road startled me, my thoughts unsettled by a strange, sharp scent I couldn't place. There was no gate nor welcome to invite us through this passage, but Zora walked it with sturdy familiarity.
Pausing, Zora pressed a finger to her lips. Then she gathered her skirts so they would do no whispering as we crept into a set of adjoined yards. White wooden fences separated them, fist-size spaces between each plank giving us much room to peek through.
The high note of a struck axe rose up. I noted first the blade, dull at the handle and bright at the edge, catching sunlight and tossing it with a flash. His hair caught some of that spark, a little long and falling loose, brushing past eyes certainly light in shade. I was too far to make out the color exactly.
I ascertained that should I truly wish to know, I'd only have to ask Zora, whose grip tightened uncomfortably on my elbow.
"Thomas Rea," she said. She kept her voice low as she pulled me along the fences, for it seemed we needed to look on Thomas at many angles. "His father's a bachelor or a widower. It's our little mystery trying to guess which."
Oblivious to us, Thomas split through his lot of wood, oddly graceful at it. Such a brute chore should have been ugly to watch. Instead, it was a wonder, the way he turned a pile of maple into an orderly cord for burning.
"He's almost in our circle." Zora put her hands on my shoulders, ducking around me to get a better view. "Since his father's a doctor, that's respectable enough. But no one knows them, really. Sarah's mother is beside herself, trying to decide if any of us can marry Thomas."
I covered my mouth to hide my smile. "Is that so?"
"Mrs. Holbrook plots. It's her opium." Suddenly, Zora crumpled against the fence.
Hurrying to attend her, I asked, "Are you faint?"
"Simply mad, Amelia."
Zora exhaled a sigh, looking through the slats again. Her lashes fluttered as she battled her stays for a deep breath. Her hands had turned to hard knots, held tight at her waist. Deliberately, she brushed herself off and headed for the alley.
Though I mainly played at my charcoals, I had a moment of inspiration. Zora would make such an ideal Thisbe! How entirely like her in that moment, longing for a Pyramus at work with his axe. I imagined sketching holly in her hair and wispy gowns flowing from her shoulders...
"You're dawdling. Don't you want to get to the printer's today?"
Protesting, I swore, "I don't think August intended my allowance to be spent on calling cards!"
"Dash August, then," Zora said. "We'll spend it anyway!"
Newly dizzy with daring, I held up one finger. "A moment, wait!" And in my madness, fed by hers, I stepped up on the fence and called out, "Fancy You, Thomas, good afternoon!"
"Amelia!" Zora cried, her delight both complete and horrified.
I never knew if Thomas raised his head to see us, for Zora ran away laughing. What could I do but run after her?
Three
T HAT'S A MAN'S CARD ," Zora said, tugging a catalog from my hands. "What's the matter with you?"
"I like them!"
Reaching for the printer's book, I longed to look at the handsome calling card again, the one with a silhouette of a hawk. It seemed all the cards I preferred were meant for men—the ones with bold strokes and dark letters.
Nostrils flaring, Zora presented me with one of her cards. "See, there. That's a proper lady's card. Ivory and silver and script. Don't you think it introduces me well?"
"It's very like you," I agreed, rubbing the ivory edges
"Sounds miserable," I said.
And to my delight, Zora laughed, a soft, naughty sound. "It's is."
"Secretly, you're abeast, aren't you?"
"There will be time enough for sainthood once I'm married," she said.
Then, with a strength I never would have thought possible, she yanked my arm, pulling me down an alley. Our forcible departure from the road startled me, my thoughts unsettled by a strange, sharp scent I couldn't place. There was no gate nor welcome to invite us through this passage, but Zora walked it with sturdy familiarity.
Pausing, Zora pressed a finger to her lips. Then she gathered her skirts so they would do no whispering as we crept into a set of adjoined yards. White wooden fences separated them, fist-size spaces between each plank giving us much room to peek through.
The high note of a struck axe rose up. I noted first the blade, dull at the handle and bright at the edge, catching sunlight and tossing it with a flash. His hair caught some of that spark, a little long and falling loose, brushing past eyes certainly light in shade. I was too far to make out the color exactly.
I ascertained that should I truly wish to know, I'd only have to ask Zora, whose grip tightened uncomfortably on my elbow.
"Thomas Rea," she said. She kept her voice low as she pulled me along the fences, for it seemed we needed to look on Thomas at many angles. "His father's a bachelor or a widower. It's our little mystery trying to guess which."
Oblivious to us, Thomas split through his lot of wood, oddly graceful at it. Such a brute chore should have been ugly to watch. Instead, it was a wonder, the way he turned a pile of maple into an orderly cord for burning.
"He's almost in our circle." Zora put her hands on my shoulders, ducking around me to get a better view. "Since his father's a doctor, that's respectable enough. But no one knows them, really. Sarah's mother is beside herself, trying to decide if any of us can marry Thomas."
I covered my mouth to hide my smile. "Is that so?"
"Mrs. Holbrook plots. It's her opium." Suddenly, Zora crumpled against the fence.
Hurrying to attend her, I asked, "Are you faint?"
"Simply mad, Amelia."
Zora exhaled a sigh, looking through the slats again. Her lashes fluttered as she battled her stays for a deep breath. Her hands had turned to hard knots, held tight at her waist. Deliberately, she brushed herself off and headed for the alley.
Though I mainly played at my charcoals, I had a moment of inspiration. Zora would make such an ideal Thisbe! How entirely like her in that moment, longing for a Pyramus at work with his axe. I imagined sketching holly in her hair and wispy gowns flowing from her shoulders...
"You're dawdling. Don't you want to get to the printer's today?"
Protesting, I swore, "I don't think August intended my allowance to be spent on calling cards!"
"Dash August, then," Zora said. "We'll spend it anyway!"
Newly dizzy with daring, I held up one finger. "A moment, wait!" And in my madness, fed by hers, I stepped up on the fence and called out, "Fancy You, Thomas, good afternoon!"
"Amelia!" Zora cried, her delight both complete and horrified.
I never knew if Thomas raised his head to see us, for Zora ran away laughing. What could I do but run after her?
Three
T HAT'S A MAN'S CARD ," Zora said, tugging a catalog from my hands. "What's the matter with you?"
"I like them!"
Reaching for the printer's book, I longed to look at the handsome calling card again, the one with a silhouette of a hawk. It seemed all the cards I preferred were meant for men—the ones with bold strokes and dark letters.
Nostrils flaring, Zora presented me with one of her cards. "See, there. That's a proper lady's card. Ivory and silver and script. Don't you think it introduces me well?"
"It's very like you," I agreed, rubbing the ivory edges
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