. . .ady, the pretty lady, looking down at her, smiled. Then Emmy Lou knew that the lady had not forgotten. And Emmy Lou sat down. And she loved the Teacher and she loved the Second Reader. Emmy Lou had not heard the Teacher’s name. But could her grateful little heart have resolved its feelings into words, “Dear Teacher” must ever after have been the lady’s name. And so, as if impelled by her own chubby weight and some head-and-foot force of gravity, though Emmy Lou descended steadily to the foot of the Second-Reader class, there were compensations. The foot was in the shadow of the platform and within the range of Dear Teacher’s smile.

Besides, there was Hattie.

“Kitty McKoeghany.”

Emmy Lou sat with Hattie. They sat at a front desk. 54Hattie had plaits; small affairs, perhaps, but tied with ribbons behind each ear. And the part bisecting Hattie’s little head from nape to crown was exact and tru. . . Read More