Hanna’s cheeks were still burning. She knew that she might have lost a customer; Mrs. Harris might well find her impudence cause enough to stay away. Papa would doubtless have a few words to say about that. But at the moment, Hanna was more concerned about Bess. Losing a customer was not nearly as important as losing a friend.

Bess was on her feet, having stood and watched her mother’s abrupt departure. Hanna looked at her, not sure how to begin. Should she apologize? If she did, it would be insincere: She wasn’t a bit sorry for what she had said. In fact, she was proud of herself for having mustered the courage to say it.

A moment later, when Bess turned around, Hanna was surprised to see that her face was almost expressionless. “Shall I go on with the skirt tiers?” Bess asked.

Hanna blinked. That wasn’t what she had expected. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it now. Or ever.

“Yes, that would be fine. Unless you’d rather work on something else.”

Bess shook her head. She sat down, bent over her needle, and began working assiduously.

Hanna took up her own needle again. Was it better to pretend nothing had happened, and just get on with the work?

An awful lot of people dealt with difficulties that way. Hanna was as loath as anyone to talk about disagreeable subjects, but she hated the thought of them lurking, waiting for the moment when they could rear up again.

21

THE AWKWARDNESS DISSIPATED when the girls discovered that in addition to their shared dislike of sewing buttonholes, they also both hated putting in whalebone stays. Together, they giggled their way to a solution: When it came time to put in the stays, they would take turns so neither one would have to do all of them.

“And the same with buttonholes,” Bess proposed.

“A blood vow,” Hanna replied. “Which of your fingers has the most pinpricks?” They held up their fingers and pressed them together.

At the end of the day, Hanna was more than satisfied with their progress. It now seemed entirely possible that, with both of them working on it, the dress could be finished in two more days.

As Bess rolled up her apron, she said, “I almost forgot. Would you walk with me to the church site? My pa is working there this week, and he asked me to tell you that he’d like a word with you.”

“Of course,” Hanna said. She wondered why Mr. Harris wanted to speak to her, and asked Bess if she knew.

“No, I don’t,” Bess said. “But he didn’t seem upset at all, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hanna didn’t actually know what she was thinking, so puzzled was she by the request.