AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do as you are told, child.”
Florentyna reluctantly left her father and went to the bathroom.
“What do you think is going to happen tomorrow, Miss Tredgold?” Florentyna asked on the way to school.
“I have no idea, child, but as Mr. Asquith once advised, wait and see.”
“Was Mr. Asquith in the castle with Papa, Miss Tredgold?”
In the days that followed, Abel explained what life was like in a Russian prison camp and what had caused him to limp. He went on to teach his daughter the stories the Baron had told him in the dungeons over twenty years before. Florentyna followed the stories of the legendary Polish hero Tadeusz Kosciuszko, and all the other great figures through to the present day, while Miss Tredgold pointed to a map she had pinned on the bedroom wall.
Abel finally explained to his daughter how he had come into possession of the silver band that he wore on his wrist.
“What does it say?” demanded Florentyna, staring at the tiny engraved letters.
“Try to read the words, little one,” said Abel.
“Bar—on Ab—el Ros—nov—ski,” she stuttered out. “But that’s your name,” she insisted.
“And it was my father’s.”
After a few more days, Florentyna could answer all her father’s questions, even if Abel couldn’t always answer all of hers.
At school, Florentyna daily expected Edward Winchester to pick on her again, but he seemed to have forgotten the incident, and on one occasion even offered to share an apple with her.
Not everyone in the class, however, had forgotten, and one girl in particular, a fat, rather dull classmate, took special pleasure in whispering the words “Stupid Polack” within her hearing.
Florentyna did not retaliate immediately, but waited until some weeks later when the girl, having come in at the bottom of the class in a history test while Florentyna came in at the top, announced, “At least I’m not a Polack.” Edward Winchester frowned, but some of the class giggled.
Florentyna waited for total silence before she spoke. “True. You’re not a Polack; you’re a third-generation American, with a history that goes back about a hundred years. Mine can be traced for a thousand, which is why you are at the bottom in history and I am at the top.”
No one in the class ever referred to the subject again. When Miss Tredgold heard the story on the way home, she smiled to herself.
“Shall we tell Papa this evening?”
“No, my dear. Pride has never been a virtue. There are some occasions on which it is wise to remain silent.”
The six-year-old girl nodded thoughtfully before asking: “Do you think a Pole could ever be President of the United States?”
“Certainly, if the American people can overcome their own prejudice.”
“And how about a Catholic?”
“That will become irrelevant, even in my lifetime.”
“And a woman?” added Florentyna.
“That might take a little longer, child.”
That night Miss Tredgold reported to Mr. Rosnovski that his lessons had proved worthwhile.
“And when will you carry out the second part of your plan, Miss Tredgold?” Abel asked.
“Tomorrow,” she replied, smiling.
At three-thirty the following afternoon Miss Tredgold was standing on the corner of the street waiting for her ward to finish school. Florentyna came chattering out through the gates and they had walked for several blocks before she noticed that they were not taking their usual route home.
“Where are we going, Miss Tredgold?”
“Patience, child, and all will be revealed.”
Miss Tredgold smiled while Florentyna seemed more concerned with telling her how well she had done in an English test that morning, a monologue she kept up all the way to Menomonee Street, where Miss Tredgold began to take more interest in the numbers on the doors than in Florentyna’s real and imagined achievements.
At last they came to a halt outside a newly painted red door which displayed the number 218. Miss Tredgold rapped on the door twice with her gloved knuckle. Florentyna stood by her side, silent for the first time since leaving school. A few moments passed before the door opened to reveal a man dressed in a gray sweater and blue jeans.
“I’ve come in response to your advertisement in the Sun,” Miss Tredgold said before the man had a chance to speak.
“Ah, yes,” he replied. “Will you come in?”
Miss Tredgold entered the house followed by a puzzled Florentyna. They were conducted through a narrow hall covered in photographs and multicolored rosettes before reaching the back door, which led out onto a yard.
Florentyna saw them immediately. They were in a basket on the far side of the yard and she ran toward them. Six yellow Labrador puppies snuggled up close to their mother. One of them left the warmth of the clan and limped out of the basket toward Florentyna.
“This one’s lame,” said Florentyna, immediately picking up the puppy and studying the animal’s leg.
/> “Yes, I’m afraid so,” admitted the breeder. “But there are still five others in perfect condition for you to choose from.”
“What will happen if nobody takes her?”
“I suppose…” The breeder hesitated.”…She will have to be put to sleep.”
Florentyna stared desperately at Miss Tredgold as she clung to the dog, who was busily licking her face.
“I want this one,” said Florentyna without hesitation, fearful of Miss Tredgold’s reaction.
“How much will that be?” asked Miss Tredgold as she opened her purse.
“No charge, ma’am. I’m happy to see that one go to a good home.”
“Thank you,” said Florentyna. “Thank you.”
The puppy’s tail never stopped wagging all the way to its new home while to Miss Tredgold’s surprise Florentyna’s tongue never wagged once. In fact, she didn’t let go of her new pet until she was safely back inside the family kitchen. Zaphia and Miss Tredgold watched as the young Labrador limped across the kitchen floor toward a bowl of warm milk.
“She reminds me of Papa,” said Florentyna.
“Don’t be impertinent, child,” said Miss Tredgold.
Zaphia stifled a smile. “Well, Florentyna, what are you going to call her?”
“Eleanor.”
Chapter
Four
The first time Florentyna ran for President was in 1940 at the age of six. Miss Evans, her teacher in second grade, decided to hold a mock election. The boys from the Latin School were invited to join the contest, and Edward Winchester, whom Florentyna had never quite forgiven for pouring blue ink over her bear, was chosen to run as the surrogate Mr. Wendell L. Willkie. Florentyna naturally ran as FDR.
