At first, Friedrich Bhaer thought he must be going insane.
These were his socks, certainly. But they hadn't looked this much like... well, socks in years. He turned them over again. It didn't look like new yarn had been added. He put his glasses on and looked again. No, that yarn was definitely newer, not as worn. Someone had knit new heels into them.
He sat down. The first person that came to mind was Mrs. Kirke, but after another thought, that didn't seem so likely. He had already darned his socks, someone else had taken the care to unravel his own awful sewing and completely repair them. And his darning was awful. How long had this taken? A busy woman such as Mrs. Kirke simply would not have the time. Then who?
Well, I'm sure they'll say something soon.
Saturday afternoon meant fun, that all the children knew. They dashed about the ground floor of the boarding house, pulling on hats and boots and scarves and creating quite a racket. Miss March managed to catch one of the girls to button up her coat for her, already quite pink in the face from chasing down one after the other. "If we cannot get ready," she said loudly to be heard over the racket, "we'll never make it to the park!"
"Stand still Emil, let her fasten your boots," Mr. Bhaer said, continuing to search for Kitty's missing glove.
When all the children were ready, Miss March had them lined up by the door.
"Wait. Tina, where are your gloves?" she asked.
"Mine gloves are too small," Tina said. "Mama will make me new ones."
"Perhaps you could borrow mine? They're far too big but they would keep you warm..." Mr. Bhaer withdrew his own gloves. Miss March frowned and took them from him.
"These are filled with holes, I'm not sure if they would keep anyone warm." She looked up at him. "I'm good with a darning needle, I could-"
"No, no, no need Mees Marsch," Friedrich gently took the gloves back, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment. First, she catches him in his robe fixing his socks and now she sees his gloves and a softer look is in her eyes. He cannot discern whether it is pity or concern, his eyes will not stay resting on her face for long enough. "No need to trouble yourself over Old Fritz, they are perfectly fine."
She lent Tina her own gloves that day, and some thought in the back of his head that he couldn't quite place bothered him.
Getting dressed a few mornings later, Friedrich paused.
Had this shirt sleeve always had a button?
No, that button has been missing for months! Where did this new one come from?! Did the person who put it here think he wouldn't notice?
"Good morning, professor," Mrs. Kirke greeted as she passed.
"Mees Kirke, may I ask of you a question?" Friedrich paused. The landlady paused as well, turning a raising her eyebrows slightly in question. "I- I haf been noticing something with the mending, I was wondering-"
"Oh, yes. Someone is putting your mending in order."
"Who?"
"Only someone returning favors," Mrs. Kirke shrugged, turning back around to hide her knowing grin.
This went on for a few weeks, every new mend he found driving him a little more crazy. He attempted to ask Mrs. Kirke a few more times but she always brushed him off. Whoever was doing this must not want to be given away, but why? What favors were they returning?
He tried to ask Tina's mother. She did the fine ironing and had probably handled everyone's clothing here at some point, so maybe it was her. Perhaps she saw the reading lessons he gave Tina as a favor that needed repaying. She did not quite understand what he was asking and seemed rather baffled at first. "Mend? You have already done a fine job mending, Monsieur Bhaer. They are not in need of fixing any longer." She handed his socks back with an approving nod. "You are improving with the needle, this I can see."
Just as he was wracking his brain again for another possibility, he found another what he was beginning to think of as 'good fairy works'. The fingers of his winter gloves, the next time he pulled them out of his pocket, had been painstakingly patched up. The yarn used to knit some fingertips back onto them was a slightly different shade of red, making the extent of the work done all the more obvious. A small wave of guilt overtook the professor. I could have simply stitched it back together. It might not have been so neat but this work- I am not worthy of the time and attention this must have taken.
"I'm good with a darning needle."
Friedrich ran a hand through his hair. What if...
No. He should not assume that because of one off-hand comment. Miss March had other more important things to tend to than his gloves, his shirt buttons, or his socks. Gott, what a mortifying thought! Miss March examining his hopeless darning. She would think him even more absentminded and stupid than ever. And for some reason that irked him. He didn't want to seem stupid to her.
He had taken to peeping through the glass door between the parlor and the nursery, half hoping and half dreading to see Mrs. March with knitting needles or something of the sort. He only ever saw her stitching pinafores once, at a rapid pace, seemingly working off a frustration.
"I am only a stupid old fellow," Friedrich shook his head, "who makes up the fancies."
And yet he still kept coming back to steal a glance.
When he finally caught her at it, he felt as if his heart might stop. There she was, a now-familiar expression of concentration on her face, with his shirt spread out over her lap. Her lips were moving, but no one else was in the room. She babbled away to herself, snipping the thread and then testing out the repaired button. Friedrich let the curtain drop slowly, sitting down at his desk. It was her.
But he couldn't ask her about it. Not after he found out like that.
He would have to catch her in the act somehow.
Tina left the door wide open that evening, and Friedrich didn't remind her to shut it. The nursery door had been partially open as well last time he had passed, and he was keeping an ear out while he gave lessons. All evening he waited, perhaps he would hear something, or Tina would run across 'Miss Jo' hard at work.
Finally, the last student for the evening was gone, and Tina was curled up in the big armchair with a picture book. Friedrich became aware of a soft clicking. It sounded like knitting needles. He rose and went softly to the doorway. Right outside, in the hall, Miss March sat with her skirts pooling about her. Her basket had yarn, needles, fabric, and (his) socks tucked in it. "Lieben, liebe, liest," she muttered to herself, trying on the words like an overbig coat. "Liebt, liebst." Friedrich glanced back and made eye contact with Tina, who stifled a giggle in her hand. Unfortunately, Friedrich himself was not as good at stifling his chuckle.
Miss March turned and their gazes locked. She tried to tuck her work under her apron as if he hadn't seen it already, then flushed up to her ears, knowing how silly it was to try to hide it.
"So, you peep at me, and I peep at you, and that is not bad; but see, haf you a wish for German?"
"Yes," she admitted, "but you're very busy, and I'm too stupid to learn."
Miss March, stupid?! "Prut!" He would not allow her to think that. Not when it wasn't true. "We will make the time, and we fail not to find the sense." He held out a hand to help her up. She tucked her work into her basket and took it. "At efening, I will give a little lesson with much gladness. For look, Mees Marsch, I haf this debt to pay." He nodded toward her knitting as he pulled her up.
"Oh, it's nothing-" Miss March tried to protest, her cheeks still pink as peonies.
"'Yes,' they say to one another, these so kind ladies, 'he is a stupid old fellow; he will not see what we do; he will never opserve that his sock heels go not in holes anymore, and think buttons grow themselves.' Ah! But I haf an eye, I see your work, and I feel thanks for it. Come, a little lesson now and then, or no more good fairy works for me and mine."
"Are you sure? I- I can pay you for them, really," Miss March tried to protest. She couldn't hide the excitement in her eyes when she glanced past him toward the bookshelf in his room.
"I refuse, Mees Marsch. You have been so kind already, fixing up what this old fool ruined."
An odd look came over her face as she picked up the basket. "You aren't a fool. I should hope not, at least, I'll be taking lessons from you," her usual sunny expression returned as she handed him back his clothes. "And I can fix them again anytime, I don't mind. You've been so kind to me."
"Thank you, Mees Marsch."
"Now, how do you say that in German?"
Friedrich couldn't help but laugh. "Eager to start, are we?"
