“We have an unusual opportunity here,” Miss Walters said. “Mr. Harris has written to Washington to inquire about—about certain laws governing school enrollment and attendance. The families of the other students are planning to wait until he receives a response. There are only two more weeks of the term, and I doubt very much that he will hear anything before school is finished.”

She folded her hands together and leaned forward to look at the girls earnestly. “With so few students, I have decided not to hold an exhibition. I have been thinking that we can end this term another way. I believe that if the two of you work hard on the lessons I set for you, you can be prepared to take the graduation examinations on the last day. Your scores will likely not be as high as they might be if you had more time. But if you perform as I expect you to, you will complete your studies, and the school board will be able to grant you diplomas.”

Hanna realized at once what Miss Walters was not saying. If she graduated, the townspeople would send their children to school again next term—because she would no longer be there. It was a compromise, an unsatisfying one.

Rotten eggs. That’s solving the problem by going around it. Not by facing it.

Bess answered first. “I’ll speak to my parents, miss. For myself, I would be glad to graduate this term. If I can get a teaching certificate and teach next term, it would be a great help to my family. I think my parents will see it that way.”

“Very good, Bess,” Miss Walters said. She turned to Hanna.

Hanna waited a few moments and took a long breath before she felt able to speak. “I want to sew,” she said. She looked up at Miss Walters. “I don’t need a teaching certificate for that. I don’t even need to graduate. I want to make dresses in my father’s shop.”

She was astonished to find herself telling Miss Walters what was essentially private business, but now that she had gotten started, she couldn’t stop. “He doesn’t think I can do it, but I know I can. If I could graduate, maybe it will . . . I don’t know, prove to him that—that I can do what I set out for.”

Miss Walters nodded thoughtfully. “Talk to your father about it,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I will, miss.” Hanna wasn’t as sure as Miss Walters seemed to be. “I’ll have his answer—my answer—on Monday.”

When Hanna arrived home that day, she found a note from Papa asking her to come straight to the shop. The building was now fully framed and sided, and work was beginning on the interior. While Papa and Charlie Hart did the heavy carpentry work, Hanna had been following behind them, scraping and sanding.