Hope Springs
“His newest one, Mrs. Smith, who had, true to her word, been waiting at the depot, was as different from Katie as seemingly possible. She was at least twice Katie’s age, considerably taller and far thicker built. She was also of a somber disposition, though not necessarily unhappy. Where Katie took to quiet contemplation, Mrs. Smith spoke her mind quickly and to the point.
She would take some getting used to. But, then, so had Katie.
“Is that your town?” Mrs. Smith pointed ahead, past th...e bridge they were about to drive over.
“It is.”
“Is that all of it?” she pressed.
Joseph nodded. “A mercantile, a blacksmith shop, and the school, which is also the church.”
“It is very small.”
He couldn’t say if her words were a condemnation or simply an observation. Her tone was, without exception, straightforward, very businesslike.MoreLess
She would take some getting used to. But, then, so had Katie.
“Is that your town?” Mrs. Smith pointed ahead, past th...e bridge they were about to drive over.
“It is.”
“Is that all of it?” she pressed.
Joseph nodded. “A mercantile, a blacksmith shop, and the school, which is also the church.”
“It is very small.”
He couldn’t say if her words were a condemnation or simply an observation. Her tone was, without exception, straightforward, very businesslike.MoreLess
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