Memories were flooding in, of the whole Ellis family, who came, eleven strong, to school the first year she taught, the oldest boy two years older than she was, and the youngest barely five. But Barney, that oldest boy, was the greatest help and made that first year nothing but pleasure, for he licked his brothers and sisters when they needed it, and every other child in school was in awe of him. There were forty in the schoolhouse, as she well remembered, till ten were out with mumps in the spring term. She could see Barney now, determined to learn, but slow, licking his pencil over and over again before making a tentative answer to a problem in math. For him she had invented a whole series of problems dealing not with abstract numbers but with things he could take in, like shingles and boards and numbers of sheep. Oh, well, he’s turned into a good farmer, after all.

She came on four old valentines next, one from Barney after he graduated when he was more than a little in love with her—he was a gawky boy then. But who were the others from? She couldn’t for the life of her remember. Rufus never sent her a valentine.

She drew out more textbooks—a worn simple arithmetic, a reader; and there was that Webster she had looked high and low for last year when Nick wanted it for a crossword puzzle! She almost didn’t see the crumpled piece of paper in her grandfather’s hand, but luckily she unfolded it, the ink so faded she could barely decipher it. What she read set her tingling with excitement.

She looked at her watch—nearly eleven. If she hurried she could get up to Christina’s and back before Nick would want his dinner, and anyway it was cold meat and all she had to do was boil some potatoes and a cabbage.

“Nick,” she called out, “I’ve got to go to Christina’s. I found something I want to show her. Be back by noon.”

Ellen was so excited she did not even think what an unusual thing she was doing, for it was rare indeed that she went to the Ark—Christina came down the hill to visit when she could. But then it was rare to have Christina around so late in the year and to be able to go up there without the risk of running into people from Boston or Europe whom Ellen didn’t know. The true residents of Willard, like Ellen, did not “go for walks.” This was something the summer people did, and in fact Ellen never walked anywhere except with Christina. Nick drove her to do the errands in town once a week, and otherwise she stayed close to the farm.