Working for the captain’s wife is no longer the lark it once was.
Thankful marched back into the Markhams’ finding Miss Peckham, dressed in one of Mrs. Markham’s plain visiting dresses and brushing out the matron’s long, mousy hair.
“Be a dear, Thankful, and do up the egg—fried—while Miss Peckham shows me the latest style.”
Miss Peckham stopped a minute appraising Thankful’s dark curls. “I could show you how they wear their hair in New York these days, Miss Crenshaw.”
“I know how they do hair in New York! I like to wear my hair my way!” Thankful responded storming to the kitchen.
By the time Mrs. Markham joined her, Thankful was in tears again. “Thankful, why are you so upset?”
Thankful shook her head. “I don’t care for Willy any more than a friend, but he’s from home, is all. That’s all it is, but Miss Peckham—I just hate…
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