3
CAIRO, ILLINOIS
Supper was a large affair. The men carried tables and chairs to Aunt Lissie's house, and the women brought bread and soup, along with other food to the tables.
Marie-Grace met her Uncle Alex at supper. He was a dark-haired man and had an American accent, even though he spoke French fluently. He was very friendly, and immediately offered for Marie-Grace and her father to stay in his home.
Uncle Pierre offered for them to stay in his home, too, and so did Aunt Lissie.
"We had originally planned to stay with Aunt Lisette," Papa told them all. "We wouldn't want to crowd the rest of you."
"I have extra room in my bed!" Alice spoke up eagerly. "Marie-Grace can stay with me!"
Marie-Grace blushed, thinking Alice was very bold to speak up in the adults' conversation.
"Would you like that, Grace?" Papa asked, turning to look at her.
She nodded, and so it was settled. Papa would stay in Aunt Lissie's guest room, while Marie-Grace would sleep with Alice.
Marie-Grace felt a little nervous to stay in a different house from her father, but she was also a little excited by it.
She sat by Alice at supper, while her cousin chatted away.
After supper, Marie-Grace helped clean the dishes in Aunt Lissie's kitchen sink, and then Alice took her arm and led her outside to Uncle Pierre's house.
"This is my room," Alice told Marie-Grace proudly, opening a door down the long hallway of Uncle Pierre and Aunt Isabelle's house.
The room was small, but had a large bed against a wall, that could fit two people in it easily, and a small, oval mirror sat on a bureau dresser nearby; there was also a cozy sofa in the corner. A wood chair sat near the door, with a white, cotton pinafore hung over it.
"You can unpack your trunk into my dresser, if you like," Alice offered.
Marie-Grace's trunk sat on the floor near the bed. Uncle Alex had brought it in the house for her.
"Thank you," Marie-Grace said. She bent down and unlocked the trunk with a key in her hand that Papa had given her. The lock sprang, and Marie-Grace lifted the trunk's lid.
Inside, her clothes were a mess. She had folded them so neatly before she'd boarded the ship, but from being below deck with the other baggage so long, and being tossed on the ocean, her trunk's contents had rumpled and unfolded.
Marie-Grace sighed and took out a dress, folding it.
Alice opened a drawer in the bureau for Marie-Grace to place the dress. She watched as Marie-Grace unpacked all her clothes for a few minutes. "You don't have a pinafore?" she said suddenly.
"No," Marie-Grace answered her shyly.
"Well, how will you do the barn chores tomorrow?" Alice asked.
"What are the barn chores?" Marie-Grace asked, folding a thick shawl, and placing it beside her dress in the drawer.
"Mostly I just feed the chickens, gather their eggs," Alice said. "You can help me."
"I've never fed chickens before," Marie-Grace admitted.
Alice seemed surprised. "Never?"
"No," Marie-Grace told her, blushing.
"Well, I'll show you how to do it tomorrow."
Marie-Grace finished unpacking. She closed the drawers to the bureau, then locked her trunk and pushed it to a corner of the room.
"You could put it under the bed," Alice suggested. "It would be out of the way then." She shrugged her thin shoulders.
"I'll leave it there for now," Marie-Grace decided, feeling slightly weary. "That trunk was heavy."
The two girls took out their nightgowns and changed into them. Marie-Grace watched as Alice brushed out her long hair, then braided it carefully, tying the end with a ribbon.
Marie-Grace simply loosed the ribbon in her hair, which had held back her tresses since she was on the ship Liberty that morning.
They climbed into bed, and Alice blew out the single gas lamp. Marie-Grace listened to the quilts shifting as her cousin moved in bed.
– ❧ –
The next morning, Marie-Grace woke early, and dressed. Alice was still sleeping, but as Marie-Grace opened the bedroom door to go out, she heard her cousin sit up and yawn.
Marie-Grace went into the kitchen of Uncle Pierre and Aunt Isabelle's house, shivering, even though a thick shawl was wrapped around her shoulders.
Aunt Isabelle was up, stirring a large pot with a wood spoon over the stove.
"You're up early, Marie-Grace!" Aunt Isabelle said, surprised.
"Good morning," Marie-Grace told her aunt, smiling.
"Would you like to help set the table?" Aunt Isabelle asked. Marie-Grace nodded, and Isabelle showed her where the silverware and dishes were kept, in a cabinet in the dining room.
Marie-Grace took out plates, cups, and spoons, and set them on a large wood dining table for breakfast.
Soon all her cousins were awake, and Uncle Pierre came inside from the barn. They ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal, then Marie-Grace helped clean up the dishes.
Papa was not at breakfast. Uncle Pierre informed Marie-Grace that he had gone on an errand that morning.
"Alice, you have your barn chores," Aunt Isabelle reminded.
Alice sighed, then turned to Marie-Grace and frowned, knitting her eyebrows. "Where is your pinafore?"
"I already told you I don't have one," Marie-Grace reminded her cousin.
"But you could have borrowed one of mine! You can't do barn chores without a pinafore." Alice raced back to her room and disappeared through the door. A minute later, she reappeared, holding a white pinafore like the one she wore herself, hung over her arm. "Here," Alice said, thrusting it at Marie-Grace.
Aunt Isabelle watched as Marie-Grace unbuttoned the back of the pinafore, then slid her arms in the sleeve holes. Alice buttoned up the back for her.
"There," Alice said, satisfied. "Now, hurry!"
They went outside, and Marie-Grace saw the large barn for the first time. When she and Alice stepped inside, the unfamiliar smell of animals reached her nose.
"We'll feed the chickens first," Alice told Marie-Grace. She hefted a bag of chicken feed, which had been leaning against the barn wall, and poured some into her apron as she held the bottom up, catching the grains. Alice gestured for Marie-Grace to mimic her, then poured some feed into her apron.
Alice put the bag back and said, "Throw the feed at the chickens, all over the chicken coop." She opened a wire-made door to the chicken coop, where hens stood, strutting around, sometimes pecking at the ground. A few hens sat in small boxes against the wall, in hay, like a nest.
Marie-Grace did as Alice said, watching her cousin carefully and copying her.
All the greedy hens rushed at the feed, as well as the ones that had been sitting in boxes. While they were busy eating, Alice and Marie-Grace gathered the eggs from the boxes, putting them carefully in wicker baskets that Alice had retrieved from the barn.
When their chores were finished, Alice dusted off her hands, and asked, grinning, "Shall I show you around Cairo, Illinois now?"
"Will we walk?" Marie-Grace asked.
"Yes," Alice told her. "Wait here a moment."
She disappeared out of the barn with the egg baskets, then returned soon, out of breath.
"I had to give the baskets to Maman," Alice explained. "And I told her we were going to town." She grabbed Marie-Grace's hand. "Come on!"
The two girls flew out of the house and down the path through the woods, toward town, their hair and skirts flying from the light wind. When they arrived in the town of Cairo, Alice and Marie-Grace stopped running. Marie-Grace gasped, out of breath.
"Let's go to Mrs. Davis's bakery first," Alice suggested. "Maybe she'll give us a piece of bread or something else to munch on while I show you the rest of town."
They headed toward a small shop that smelled delicious, of freshly baked bread and muffins, to Marie-Grace. Over the door was a sign: Davis Bakery. Marie-Grace could see a young woman with light-brown hair through the shop window, rolling out dough with a rolling pin, then kneading it with her fists.
"That's Miss Marshal," Alice said, pointing to the young woman. She was wearing a blue-and-white striped apron, and her light-brown hair was pulled back in a bun. Wisps of her hair hung around her face, and clung to her skin, as if she were sweating.
Alice opened the bakery door and the two girls went inside. Instantly Marie-Grace felt the temperature change, from the cold, spring weather outside, to oven-hot air, so warm that she wiped her brow.
"Hello, Miss Marshal!" Alice called cheerfully, giving a friendly wave toward the young woman.
Miss Marshal looked up and wiped pieces of her damp hair back, with a flour-smudged hand. "Good afternoon, Alice," she said to the girl, then eyed Marie-Grace curiously.
"This is my cousin, Marie-Grace," Alice explained. "She and her papa are staying with us for a while."
"Doctor Gardner's daughter?" Miss Marshal asked.
"Yes," Alice answered.
"How do you know my papa?" Marie-Grace asked shyly.
"Alice's father and your uncle Alex speak of him," Miss Marshal replied. "And some other people in town have met him."
"Where is Mrs. Davis, Miss Marshal?" Alice inquired.
"Mrs. Davis went out on an errand," Miss Marshal said. "I think she will be back in a few minutes."
"Well, I'm showing Marie-Grace the town," Alice said.
Marie-Grace commented, "You have a lovely bakery." She gazed around the shop.
The countertop that Miss Marshal was working on was very long, and two large ovens—which Marie-Grace guessed let out all the heat—were near the back of the bakery. Wood shelves held fresh bread and muffins, scones and croissants. Looking at it all made Marie-Grace's mouth water.
"Thank you," Miss Marshal said, smiling.
"We had better leave," Alice said, grabbing Marie-Grace's hand. "I still have to show you the rest of the town."
"Wait, girls!" Miss Marshal cried. She went to a shelf and took two fresh blueberry muffins down. She handed them to the girls, smiling.
"Thank you, Miss Marshal," Marie-Grace said.
"Merci!" Alice said, grinning at Miss Marshal as she took her blueberry muffin.
"Goodbye, girls!" Miss Marshal called cheerily to them, as they went out the bakery door.
The girls walked down the street, eating their delicious muffins.
"That's old Mrs. Widow White," Alice told Marie-Grace, her mouth full of muffin, pointing to an old-looking house in town. "And that's the jeweler's. Come on, let's go in!"
Marie-Grace ate the last of her muffin and brushed crumbs off her hands before following Alice into the jewelry shop.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gregory!" Alice called out. A bell rang as she and Marie-Grace stepped through the door.
"Hello, Alice," an old man with graying hair greeted. He was holding up a gold necklace in the light through the window and studying it with a magnifying glass. He put the necklace down as the girls came to the counter.
"This is my cousin, Marie-Grace Gardner," Alice explained quickly.
"Hello, Miss Marie-Grace," Mr. Gregory greeted her, smiling in a friendly way. "Do you like jewelry?"
"Oh, yes!" Marie-Grace told him. "I have some necklaces of my own, but none so fine as this jewelry!" She swept a hand at all the necklaces and bracelets, and earrings and rings that lay organized on the counter.
Mr. Gregory beamed. "This necklace," he boasted, holding up the one he had previously been examining, "is made of pure gold."
Marie-Grace gasped. "It must be expensive!" She had thought the necklace was just plaited in gold, or parts of it were gold.
"It costs seventy-six dollars," Mr. Gregory told her seriously.
"We had better hurry, Marie-Grace," Alice interrupted. They headed toward the door.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gregor!" Marie-Grace called. "Thank you for the short visit!"
"Goodbye," he said.
Back out in the street, Marie-Grace and Alice passed a woman with long gray hair in a bun, wearing a white apron.
"Mrs. Davis!" Alice cried. "We stopped at the bakery, and Miss Marshal said you were out on an errand."
Mrs. Davis looked to Marie-Grace, confused. "Who is this?"
"Oh, this is my cousin, Marie-Grace," Alice told her. "She and her father—"
"Yes, yes. Well, I must be off!" Mrs. Davis interrupted, and looked around hurriedly, before walking toward the bakery.
"Well, she was acting strange!" Alice stated, hands on her hips.
Marie-Grace was thinking about Mrs. Widow Davis's dead husband, and the stories of his ghost in the woods.
"If Mrs. Davis doesn't live in her cabin in the woods anymore," Marie-Grace wondered aloud, remembering how Bruno had claimed it was abandoned, "then where does she live?"
"Oh, she sleeps in the back of the bakery," Alice replied. "And Miss Marshal lives with her family, in Cairo."
A young girl walking down the street in a bright pink dress, carrying a lacy white parasol over her shoulder caught Marie-Grace's eye.
"That's Betsy Anna Rogers," Alice whispered to Marie-Grace. "But I don't want to talk to her now."
But Betsy had already seen them, and came toward Alice. "Who is this?" Betsy asked. She looked to be about eleven years old, and had long, golden-blond curls.
"This is my cousin, Marie-Grace. She's staying with us for a while," Alice explained hurriedly. "But we have to hurry home now." She took Marie-Grace's hand and pulled her away, leaving Betsy Anna looking confused.
"But I didn't see the rest of the town!" Marie-Grace complained to Alice.
"I'll show it to you later," Alice replied, shrugging. "We really should go long. I told Maman we wouldn't be gone long."
As they walked down the street, passing people, Marie-Grace and Alice passed by a large building. It looked like a bank.
"That's Mr. Aaron Potts, our mayor," Alice told Marie-Grace, pointing to a tall man with reddish hair and a large mustache, who stood outside the bank. She lowered her voice and added, "A lot of people have been cross with him lately, because he's asked for money from the town citizens, to fund the bank, so it can build a room in the back to keep a safe for money."
"And that's Mr. Stevens!" Marie-Grace cried, pointing to the boat pilot, who stood near the bank, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "Let's go say hello!" Marie-Grace offered, starting toward Mr. Stevens.
Alice shook her head. "I told my mother we would be home soon!" she reminded
So Marie-Grace and her cousin headed back to the woods.