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She was becoming adjusted to the pattern of the days. A silent breakfast in the chill of early morning, a shivering walk to the cold school shanty; then the usual round of recitations, with recess and noon breaking it into four equal parts. Then the cold walk back to the Brewsters’ house for a cheerless supper, an evening of study, and sleep on the narrow sofa. Mrs. Brewster was always sullen and silent. She seldom even quarreled at Mr. Brewster any more.
The week passed and Friday came again. When the history class came forward to recite, Clarence said, “You may hear me recite as far as Martha and Charles. I’ve caught up with them.”
Laura was amazed. She exclaimed, “But how could you, Clarence?”
“If you can study at night, I can,” Clarence said. Laura smiled at him again. She could have liked him so much, if she had not been the teacher. The brown sparkles in his eyes were like the blue sparkles in Pa’s. But she was the teacher.
“That is good,” she said. “Now you can all three go on together.”
With four o’clock came the music of sleigh bells, and Clarence loudly whispered, “Teacher’s beau!”
Laura’s cheeks grew hot, but she said quietly, “You may put away your books. School is dismissed.”
She dreaded that Clarence might shout again, but he did not. He was well on his way toward home with Tommy and Ruby when Laura shut the shanty door behind her and Almanzo tucked her again into the cutter.
Chapter 7
A Knife in the Dark
The third week went by, and the fourth. Now there were only four weeks more. Though every morning Laura was anxious about the school day ahead, still it was not as bad as the Brewsters’ house, and every afternoon at four o’clock she drew a breath of relief; one more day had gone well.
There were no blizzards yet, but February was very cold. The wind was like knives. Every Friday and Sunday, Almanzo Wilder had made the long, cold drive, to take her home. Laura did not know how she could get through the week, without looking forward to Saturday at home. But she felt sorry for Almanzo, who was making those cold drives for nothing.
Much as she wanted to go home every week, she did not want to be under such an obligation to anyone. She was going with him only to get home, but he did not know that. Perhaps he was expecting her to go driving with him after she went home to stay. She did not want to feel obliged to go with him, neither could she be unfair, or deceitful. She felt that she must explain this to him, but she did not know how.
At home, Ma worried because she was thinner. “Are you sure you get enough to eat at Brewster’s?” Ma asked, and Laura answered, “Oh, yes, a great plenty! But it doesn’t taste like home cooking.”
Pa said, “You know, Laura, you don’t have to finish the term. If anything worries you too much, you can always come home.”
“Why, Pa!” Laura said, “I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t get another certificate. Besides, it’s only three weeks more.”
“I’m afraid you’re studying too hard,” Ma said. “You don’t look like you get enough sleep.”
“I go to bed every night at eight o’clock,” Laura assured her.
“Well, as you say, it’s only three weeks more,” said Ma.
No one knew how she dreaded to go back to Mrs. Brewster’s. It would do no good to tell them. Being at home every Saturday raised her spirits and gave her courage for another week. Still, it was not fair to take so much from Almanzo Wilder.
He was driving her out to the Brewsters’ that Sunday afternoon. They hardly ever spoke during those long drives; it was too cold to talk. The jingling sleigh bells sounded frosty in the sparkling cold, and the light cutter sped so fast that the north wind following it was not very sharp on their backs. But he must face that wind all the way back to town.
The Brewsters’ shanty was not far ahead when Laura said to herself: “Stop shilly-shallying!” Then she spoke out. She said, “I am going with you only because I want to get home. When I am home to stay, I will not go with you any more. So now you know, and if you want to save yourself these long, cold drives, you can.”
The words sounded horrid to her as she said them. They were abrupt and rude and hateful. At the same time, a dreadful realization swept over her, of what it would mean if Almanzo did not come for her again. She would have to spend Saturdays and Sundays with Mrs. Brewster.
After a startled moment, Almanzo said slowly, “I see.”
There was no time to say more. They were at Mrs. Brewster’s door, and the horses must not stand and get chilled. Quickly Laura got out, saying, “Thank you.” He touched his hand to his fur cap and the cutter went swiftly away.
“It is only three weeks more,” Laura said to herself, but she could not keep her spirits from sinking.
All that week the weather grew colder. On Thursday morning Laura found that the quilt had frozen stiff around her nose while she slept. Her fingers were so numb that she could hardly dress. In the other room the stove lids were red hot, but the heat seemed unable to penetrate the cold around it.
Laura was holding her numbed hands above the stove when Mr. Brewster burst in, tore off his boots and began violently rubbing his feet. Mrs. Brewster went quickly to him.
“Oh, Lewis, what’s the matter?” she asked so anxiously that Laura was surprised.
“My feet,” Mr. Brewster said. “I ran all the way from the schoolhouse but there’s no feeling in them.”
