Thankful Crenshaw wakes to find her position at Fort Grant changed.
Thankful had just finished buttoning up the smallest child for a walk out in the morning air when Miss Peckham, wrapped in one of Thankful’s favorite robes, descended the stairs from the bedroom. Miss Peckham motioned for one of the children to give up his seat and pointed to the door. The child left politely.
“Oh, I’ve such a head this morning! Late nights can be such a bother,” Miss Peckham lamented. “And such busy bees you are; banging around all morning.”
“Have you been crying?” Thankful asked.
Miss Peckham gave her a barely tolerant look. “No, of course not. Why?”
“Your eyes are horribly puffed and your poor complexion is so ruddy.”
Mrs. Markham scolded Thankful with her eyes. “Miss Peckham, are you hungry?”
“Positively famished,” Miss Peckham said while adjusting Thankful’s flower arrangement on the dining table.
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Tenafly Road 