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small vanilla cone, which will drip all over her before
she eats it anyway, and a chocolate bar that she and
Keith can share. That's more than enough. We have
plenty of what we need at home."
What an ugly face Fanny made behind Miss
Deale's back. She groaned, moaned, and made a
terrible fuss before Tom hushed her up with his hand
over her mouth.
"Perhaps one day you'll all have lunch with me," Miss Deale said casually after a short silence as all of us watched Our Jane and Keith lick their cones with so much rapture it could make you cry. No wonder they loved Sundays so much; Sundays brought them the only treats they'd known so far in
life.
We'd no sooner finished our cones than Ma and
Pa showed up in the doorway of the drugstore.
"C'mon," called Pa, "leaving for home now--unless
you want to walk."
Then he spied Miss Deale, who was hurriedly
buying penny candy that Our Jane and Fanny were
selecting with the greatest possible care, pointing to
this piece, that piece. He strode toward us, wearing a
cream-colored suit that Granny said my mother had
bought for him on their two-week honeymoon in
Atlanta. If I hadn't known differently, I would have
thought Pa a handsome gentleman with culture, the
way he looked in that suit.
"You must be the teacher my kids talk about all
the time," he said to her, putting out his hand. She
pulled away, as if all my information about his
visiting Shirley's Place had killed her admiration for
him.
"Your eldest son and daughter are my best students," she said coolly, "as you should know since I've
written you many times about them." She didn't mention Fanny or Keith or Our Jane, since they weren't in
