Now she stood and walked to the door; she badly needed to stretch her legs. She stepped out into the yard. It was very warm, the sun heating the air without a breeze to freshen it, as if pressing hard toward summer. She walked toward the corner of the schoolhouse, to stand in the shadow cast by the wall.

“Was it harder than you thought it would be?”

Hanna turned in surprise. Bess was in the doorway. She came outside and joined Hanna in the shade.

“Well, I knew the arithmetic would be hard,” Hanna said. “It always is, for me. As for the rest—” She looked at Bess and shrugged. “I’ll start over. All of it was hard!”

“I thought so too. Those history questions—I didn’t have enough time.”

“I know! I could only write down one or two points, when there was so much more I thought I should include.”

“What about geography? What did you write for the principal rivers of Europe?”

The girls chatted for a few minutes more. Then Miss Walters came to the door and called them in.

Bess smiled. “Good luck to both of us,” she said.

Hanna smiled back. For a moment, it didn’t seem to matter what she had scored on the tests. Because maybe she had made a friend.

14

HANNA WENT STRAIGHT to the shop, the first time she had been there in nearly two weeks.

How it had changed! Before, all she had seen were the bones of the building. Now an honest-to-goodness shop stood in front of her, and a handsome one at that.

The siding had been painted a pale sage green, with darker green trim. The double doors with their center panels and brass knobs gave the façade an elegant look. The large window to the left of the door let in plenty of light.

Hanna stepped into the spacious interior, which smelled of freshly cut wood. There were piles of curly wood shavings everywhere. She ran her hand down the counter that Mr. Hart had built along the south wall. Behind it were shelves right up to the ceiling, each shelf wide enough to hold bolts of fabric. In the corner was the door to the storeroom; more shelves lined the east and north walls. A fancy coal heater stood in the other back corner, the decorative scrolls of its nickel top shiny with newness.

She followed the sound of hammering through the door behind the counter, into the storeroom. Papa was nailing lath around the window; Mr. Hart was sawing a board placed across two sawhorses. The room looked very like Hanna’s sketch, with countertop along two sides.

“Hello, Papa. Hello, Mr. Hart.”

They both stopped their work to greet her. She put her books down on the counter, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it up in front of her.

Mr. Hart tilted his head and began to read aloud.