Page 93 of A Winter By the Sea
Emily hesitated.
“Come on!” he urged.
Beside her, Mr. Ward encouraged, “You’ll get frightfully cold standing here watching—as I know from daily experience.”
“Oh, very well, then. Will you hold my things?”
“Happily.”
She handed over her notebook and reticule and joined the fray.
Emily had little idea what she was doing, so she attempted to imitate Cora’s movements, running back and forth after the ball. The girl managed to kick it from time to time, while Emily never got close enough.
As the schoolmaster had implied, however, she quickly grew warm.
After a few more minutes, she again joined Mr. Ward on the edge of the schoolyard, huffing and puffing.
“Clearly I am not the sportswoman Cora is.”
“You were willing to play with them, Miss Summers. That is what counts.”
Emily considered that as she caught her breath.
Perhaps she should ask Georgiana to come and play with the children now and again. She could teach them all a thing or two—herself included.
After half an hour at the school, they continued next door to the poor house. When they reached the entrance, they met Viola about to go in as well. She smiled. “Good day, you two. This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you back here?”
“I wanted to see Mrs. Denby again,” Mr. Thomson replied. “She has stolen my heart.”
Viola’s smile widened. “She seems to have that effect on people.”
Unintentionally, they walked in during the residents’ mealtime.
On the communal dining table lay a hunk of bread tinged with mold, a few pieces of bruised fruit, and one smoked sausage, which Miss Reed cut into equal segments for all.
Mrs. Denby looked up when they entered. “Viola! MissEmily!” she called. “And Mr. Thomson, if my old memory serves. What a pleasure to see you all again.”
She turned to the gathered residents and introduced a few Emily had not met before.
“We would ask you to join us, but I’m afraid this is all there is today.”
Mr. Thomson frowned. “Mrs. Denby, I don’t understand. You told me the food here was good, wholesome, and plentiful.”
“And it was! Until a few days ago. I told you about kind Mrs. Novak, who cooks for us. She fell, poor dear, and injured her ankle. Do pray for her, if you would.”
“I will, of course. But who is cooking in her stead?”
“We make do. The baker sent his lad over with last week’s bread, and there’s a bit of smoked sausage from the butcher, and just yesterday, Mr. Cordey brought us a few of his famous smoked herrings. Oh, and the greengrocer often gives us bruised fruit and other produce going off. With a knife to cut off the bad spots, we can cobble together quite a feast. Sometimes poor eyesight is a blessing!”
She laughed, but Mr. Thomson managed only a small smile in return.
“I am sorry to hear it.” He shared a look with Emily.
Viola spoke up. “You ought to have told me straightaway. I am sure Sarah would send more food than usual. The major and I will as well. And how is Mrs. Novak getting on? Perhaps we might take a basket to her to aid in her recovery.”
“How generous.”
Emily felt a twinge of contrition. That thought had not even crossed her mind. “Yes, an excellent idea,” Emily said, admiring her sister’s charitable spirit. How her twin had grown and changed in recent months!
