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Because it’s so strange, a timid little voice inside herself answered. And I’m not sure it likes you.
A jolly looking man in a striped apron was serving the ice cream. Ruth had pointed him out to her as Mr. Edwards, the man who ran the barber shop and ice cream parlor.
“And what may I get you, missy? Vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry?”
“Strawberry, please.”
He smiled as he handed her a dish with two glistening pink mounds. “You must be the new girl living with the Copleys,” he said. “A relation, are you?”
“A niece,” Ellen said, her hands clasped tight around her bowl. “My da’s here too. He’s Uncle Hamish’s brother.”
“I’ll be pleased to meet him as well, I’m sure.” Mr. Edwards handed her a spoon, and slightly cheered, Ellen made her way across the lawn.
A group of girls with beribboned plaits and spotless dresses were sitting, giggling and chatting, under the shade of a clump of maples, but Ellen knew she could no sooner join them as she could sprout wings and fly. They did not even look in her direction.
Slowly, so as not to disturb the mound of ice cream before her, she walked to an empty stretch of grass near enough to the girls so they could be friendly to her if they liked, but far enough so she could still be on her own.
The first taste of ice cream was strange, cold and slippery and surprisingly sweet. Ellen closed her eyes to savor the taste.
“I know you.”
Her eyes flew open in surprise and a little embarrassment. Hope Cardle stood in front of her, dressed in a rather drab olive green, her fair hair in two fat plaits, her face red from the sun. There were freckles on her nose, standing in relief to her ruddy skin.
Ellen bobbed her head. “Ellen Copley. You came into the store the other day.”
“May I sit with you?” Hope asked, and Ellen scrambled to make a space.
“Of course.”
Hope sat down, hands folded primly in her lap, her expression filled with glum longing.
“Do you want some ice cream?” Ellen asked uncertainly, and Hope shook her head with obvious regret.
“Mama won’t let me have any. She says I’ll spill it on my dress, and this is my best one. It’s true, I suppose. I’m terribly clumsy.”
Ellen nodded, for she couldn’t think of a polite answer. Hope eyed her ice cream with envy and Ellen took a reluctant spoonful. Eating ice cream while someone watched you hungrily wasn’t all that fun.
“Do you want some of mine?” Ellen asked after she’d managed several mouthfuls under Hope’s beady eye. “I could give it to you off the spoon so your dress didn’t get mussed.”
Hope darted a look around her, but no one was paying attention to the two girls off by themselves. “I suppose I could, couldn’t I?” she said nervously, and Ellen found herself laughing.
“Go on. If Aunt Ruth is letting me have some in my new dress, I don’t see why your mam has to be such a stickler about yours.” Besides, Ellen thought, Hope’s dress was one of the ugliest she’d ever seen, even if the material was shiny and stiff. The olive color didn’t suit her at all.
“All right.” Hope opened her mouth like a little bird, and Ellen stuck a spoonful of ice cream in. Hope’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, isn’t it delicious!”
They both giggled then. “Have anot
her,” Ellen said but Hope bit her lip in uncertainty.
“I shouldn’t...”
“Don’t be a bampot,” Ellen said with a laugh. “It won’t get on your dress!”
Hope tilted her head to one side, her blue eyes wide with guileless curiosity. “You do talk funny, don’t you?”
Ellen returned her spoon to her bowl. “What do you mean?”
“Mama said that yesterday, but I hadn’t heard you well enough to know. But now I see—” Hope stopped mid-sentence, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude, honestly. Mama’s always saying I can’t keep two thoughts in my head—”
