Behind the cabin, another group of men were constructing an outhouse, chopping and stacking wood, and clearing a path to the stream which would provide water for the school.

"Now all you need is the children," observed Anna, casting a significant glance down at Martha Southern.

Martha handed Anna the next pair of curtains, coloring slightly. The younger woman touched her muslin cap with one rough hand. "I hope I will be sending my Jemima, Miz Elizabeth," she said. "I pray to the Lord that my good husband will see the value."

Anna grunted. "That would require some divine intervention."

Elizabeth knew the women expected her to take up a part of this conversation, and in fact that the men had quieted down in the hope of hearing her respond. But she turned away and set to unpacking the next crate of books. Elizabeth was resolved not to let herself be pulled into this debate; she knew she could not convince people like Martha's husband, Moses, and she was afraid that she might scare away the others in the process of trying to do so.

This small silence was disturbed by a deep double rumble from the stomachs of Ian and Rudy McGarrity, nine and ten years old but alike enough to pass as twins. They looked up from under shaggy blond hair to grin with something closer to pride than embarrassment.

"Why, Jed," said Anna, when the laughter had died down. "Your boys got innards you could set the clock by. Getting on toward midday."

"And dinner waiting on the table, if I know my womenfolk." Jed unfolded his long frame from the window sash he had been sanding and reached for his hat. "We'll be back tomorrow in the early, Miz Elizabeth. Not much more to do."

The others began to put their work down and find their wraps.

"Can we see you home?" Charlie LeBlanc asked Elizabeth as he had every day he had come to work on the cabin. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw the grin on Anna Hauptmann's face, which she steadfastly ignored. It still came hard to Elizabeth to find herself the object of so much attention from young men, although she was improving in her ability to respond graciously.

"Thank you very much," she said. "But I'd like to get these books unpacked."

She thanked each of the workers by name and stood on the porch with her shawl clutched around her until they had all disappeared down the path toward their midday meals and afternoon chores.

Martha had lagged behind the others. Her face, freckled even in the dead of winter, was serious. "You can't eat books, you know," she said. Distracted, she patted the rounded form of her belly as if to send this message to the child sleeping there, blessedly unaware of the possibility of hunger. Martha had been keeping house since she was nine, first for her father, and then for her husband; she didn't seem to be able to put aside her basic function in life, which was to make sure that people were fed.

"Thank you most kindly for your concern," Elizabeth replied. "I just have a little more to do, but then I will go home and let Curiosity feed me properly."

Martha nodded, satisfied. But she still did not turn to go.

"I don't suppose my Moses will change his mind about the schooling," she said. "I hope you'll forgive me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Elizabeth. "But there's nothing to forgive, after all."

"Jemima will be sore disappointed. But maybe—could we maybe borrow a schoolbook, once in a while? I would like that, reading together of an evening."

"You are very welcome to borrow books whenever you like. Would you like to take one with you today?"

Martha flashed a shy smile. "I would, but I think I had best not, Miz Elizabeth. Not till I've asked Moses about it. You know how men can be at times."

Elizabeth nodded, biting back words she knew could not serve any good purpose.

When Martha was at the turning in the path, she turned back and raised an arm in farewell.

"Don't forget your dinner!" she called, and Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

* * *

She would have forgot her dinner, because the next crate of books was one with many fond memories. One by one she pulled out the Roman and Greek myths, the stories of the Germanic gods, spending some time with feckless Peer Gynt. Then she took up the plays that had so occupied and fascinated her as an adolescent: silly, love—struck Juliet; Henry V which had made her want to masquerade as a boy and go off to war. Dr.Faustus, which still could send shivers down her spine, and Mrs. Behn's The Rover, which made her smile.

"Lost in her books, as usual," said Julian at the door, and Elizabeth looked up with a start.

"We've brought your dinner!" called Katherine Witherspoon, coming up behind him. Her cheeks were reddened from the cold and she laughed, knocking the snow from her shoulders and hood.

Elizabeth jumped up to take the basket from Julian, who immediately began to prowl the cabin, sticking his nose into corners and sniffing delicately at the smell of the betty lamp.

"I suppose it will do, Lizzie," he said. "For your little school. Although I can't imagine being shut up here for hours at a time with a crowd of runny noses."

"Will you stop," Elizabeth said, unpacking Curiosity's ham and cheese pie.

"I think it's very nice," Kitty said in a conspiratorial whisper to Elizabeth that was not meant to be missed by Julian. "I had my lessons at the table, from my father and from Richard, and this would have been much more jolly, I'm sure.

"Oh, very jolly." Julian snorted softly. "If they don't slit each other's throats."