“Are we…going…to…upset?” Grace gasped out.
Bonnie looked into the small girl’s face. “Of course not.” Then she put her arm around the little girl, who cuddled closer to her.
“It’s more fun to ride in a sleigh than in a car because you get to go up and down. When you go for a sleigh ride down a hill, sometimes the bumps send you flying up in the air. Now you get all the fun of bumps but you don’t have to worry about flying up in the air. Not with this heavy buffalo robe.”
Grace sighed deeply and said no more. In fact, she was so quiet that Bonnie wondered if she had gone to sleep.
“Grace, are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like school?”
“Most of the time. But it’s a long way to walk. So cold.”
Finally, the sleigh’s motion smoothed out somewhat. Bonnie peeked out and sure enough, they were at the edge of Lang. Bonnie could hear many thumps, as more kids jumped onto the sleigh. Dad was laughing and saying, “Good job I brought a team instead of one horse and the cutter.” Of course, Bonnie knew that the small sleigh could not have gotten through such high snowbanks without tipping over. It was not like Prince Edward County, where they used to live. The roads there were almost always cleared and even cars could get through the five miles to Belleville.
“The train stops here,” shouted Dad. “All out!” He flung back the robe just in time for Bonnie to see Marianne and eight children from Lang jump off the back of the sleigh. Angela and Archie were nowhere in sight.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Brown,” said Marianne.
Bonnie helped little Grace Danford jump down from the sleigh. The older brothers, who were supposed to take care of her, had run ahead. They were already halfway across the schoolyard. Bonnie couldn’t help being annoyed with them, but she understood why they were impatient. Grace was slow and clumsy in her many layers of woollen clothes.
Slinky was sweeping off the pupils with a broom on the front stoop. “Mr. McDougall’s instructions,” he said proudly as he whacked away.
“You don’t need to knock my ear off,” said Marianne, stepping back from the heavy-handed broom wielder. She gave him a poke with her fist and then ducked the broom as she swished inside. Grace got only one sweep and Bonnie was swept lightly as she pushed inside behind the others.
Archie and Angela were already inside, placing their mitts on the tin frame that ran all the way around the stove. Bonnie squeezed hers and Grace’s mitts between Angela’s and Archie’s. Then Bonnie and her small charge hurried to their seats just in time for the opening exercises: the national anthem, “God Save the King,” and “The Lord’s Prayer.”
As Bonnie looked around the room, she was surprised to see that a number of seats were empty. All the absentees were from Lang. Funny, she thought. They were so close to the school, they could have waded through the snowbanks if they’d really wanted to come. Bonnie shivered. The room was sheltered from the wind, but she could still hear it howling outside. The little box stove seemed to be struggling to keep the room warm.
“Archie, would you please put in some more kindling?” said Mr. McDougall. “I’ve left it there at the back of the room.”
Archie looked sceptically up at the stovepipe as he opened the heavy front door of the little stove. It was red hot in two places. “Mr….” he said. “Mr. McDougall, I think…”
“Archie, just do as you’re told. We need more heat. Classes, read your instructions on the blackboard. But Grade Ones, open your Mary, John, and Peter readers to page twenty. I will start with your reading lesson today.” Mr. McDougall opened his own book and smiled as he watched the pupils in the front row open their books. Grace was the only one who couldn’t find the spot. Her cold fingers were shaking and she was fumbling through the pages.
“There, Grace,” said Mr. McDougall as he found the place for her. “Are your fingers so cold? You look warm enough.”
“Mr. McDougall,” Archie interrupted. “I don’t think…”
“Archie!” the teacher shot back. “Do as you’re told.” Then he turned to Grace again.
“I have the place now. Thank you, Mr. McDougall,” Grace mumbled in a tone not much louder than a whisper.
Archie grimaced as he threw in the rest of the kindling. Then he shut the damper on the stovepipe before walking to his seat.
“Archie, did you shut that damper?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Open it up. There are cold children in here.”
“But, Mr. McDougall, I don’t think—”
“Archie!”
Archie trudged silently back to the stove and opened the damper. He gave Angela a worried look on the way back to his seat, but only Bonnie saw it.
“Grace,” said Mr. McDougall. “What is the matter?”
The child had laid her head down on her arms. She raised her head a little and peeked up over her arms at the teacher. “I’m so cold…. I feel awful.”
“Rest a bit, then,” said Mr. McDougall. “It must have been that cold ride to school. And when your mitts are dry, you may put them on…. Bonnie, bring Grace’s coat out of the cloakroom and put it beside the stove. When it warms up a little, she can put it on, as well.”
The wind was still howling outside, but the little room was growing warmer and warmer. The sizzling smell of drying wool mittens filled the air. The children didn’t think anything about the smell. They were used to it.
But then a great roaring noise rose above the sounds of reading, coughing, and sniffling. Every eye looked up at the stovepipe. It had turned completely red.
“Chimney fire!” Archie shouted as loudly as he could.
A mad scramble followed. Most pupils rushed to the cloakroom for their coats while a few of the older girls and the little Grade Ones looked to the teacher.
“Wait,” Mr. McDougall said, clearing his throat.
Everyone turned around and stared at the teacher.
“The Grade Eights must help the Grade Ones. And no pushing as the rest of you leave. Just wait out in the side shed. The pipes’ll burn out in no time. But just in case they don’t, Tom, you call the men from the village. They’ll be at Billy Weir’s. Hurry!” Everyone knew there were always village men gathered around the pot-bellied stove at the General Store to swap stories on cold winter days. A few farmers often joined them, waiting for their oats to be ground for chop while they picked up a few supplies.
Outside, sparks were flying up into the air and onto the roof, where they hissed out onto the thick coating of snow. The children were clustered in the schoolyard, looking like ice statues as they gazed up at the chimney. Only a few were wearing their mitts. Most had been too afraid of the roaring stove to pick them up, so they were trying to keep warm by putting their hands deep in their pockets.
Bonnie thought about all the school work she was planning to show the teacher that morning, and the book that she’d borrowed from the church library and had tucked inside her desk. She couldn’t let anything happen to that book. It wasn’t even hers. She started up the steps, but before she reached the door, Archie ran up behind and grabbed her.
“Are you crazy?” he asked, holding her arm firmly. “You can’t go back in there.” His hair was blowing furiously around his hatless head. His face was red with the cold. “The schoolhouse could burst into flames at any minute!”
“But it’s only a stovepipe fire. We’ve had them before. They burn out once all the soot is gone.”
“You can’t be sure. Some of the sparks could have gotten into the chimney wall, or those hot pipes could break. If they do, those sparks will get a fire going fast in that classroom. It’s all full of dry wooden desks and papers.”
“That’s why I have to get my things!” Bonnie said fiercely.
“You’re not going in there, Bonnie. Anyway, the men will be here soon. They’ll put the fire out.” Bonnie could see that Archie was serious. He was also holding her arm in a vice-like grip. So she turned around and went b
ack down the steps with him. Her cheeks were flushed as they joined the group again. Archie kept his hand on her arm as though he was protecting her.
The jingle of bells filled the air as a sleigh came tearing across the snow-filled yard and stopped abruptly right in front of the school. Two sturdy men jumped off before it had come to a complete stop. Eight more followed once the horses stood still.
Marianne flew over to speak to her father, who happened to be one of the men at Mr. Weir’s store. “We think it’s only a chimney fire but it’s a bad one. The pipes were red-hot and roaring!”
Two men tore up the steps while three raced around to the side of the school with a ladder. One of the three clambered up to the roof. The children huddled together and watched as the wind whirled around them.
“Seems to be all right up here,” said the man on the ladder. “I can see where a few sparks landed but the snow was so deep they went out before catching fire. And there are no more sparks flying out of the chimney.”
“I’d guess the fire’s burned itself out,” said one of the men at the foot of the ladder. “Thank God for that. It would have been a wild day to have the whole school on fire.”
Just then, the men came out from inside the schoolhouse. “Well, that there chimney is burnt out. She’ll cause no more trouble today.”
“But it might not be wise to start her up too soon,” said the other firefighter as he stepped down the school steps.
“You’re right there, but what do we do with the young ’uns? Their parents won’t be comin’ for ’em till the end of the school day and if the storm is over, they might not come at all. But we can’t send them walkin’ home now—in this!”
“Best put ’em up in the town hall till four o’clock,” said Mr. Hubbs. “The teacher can leave a sign on the school door.” Everyone knew that Mr. Hubbs was chairman of the school board. So they’d be headed for the town hall for sure and Bonnie was already looking forward to it. Maybe they’d even plan another concert like the Christmas one she had missed.
With the excitement over, the teacher made an announcement. “You may go back inside for your boots and lunches, and any books that you can carry and take home today. We will not be moving back into the schoolhouse until tomorrow morning. Move quickly, everyone!”
Back inside the school, Bonnie shuffled everything out of her desk and into her burlap bookbag. Mum had made it a few weeks ago out of a grain bag. At first, Bonnie hadn’t liked it, but she had to admit it was strong. It would carry all her books, as well as the borrowed ones. Mum had also embroidered a beautiful big red peony on the front, which made it the envy of all the other girls.
Bonnie stuffed the bag full of her books and scribblers. What if there were still a few sparks around, smouldering away, ready to set the schoolhouse ablaze in the night? She wasn’t taking any chances. After all, she was getting a ride home tonight with the Danfords, so it didn’t matter if her bag was heavy.
Archie came up beside her and offered to carry the bag. “Oh, thank you,” she said and quickly held it out. Archie grimaced at the unexpected weight, then slung the bag over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
The students laughed and joked as they lumbered along through the snow. The wind was not blowing so hard now and they were thrilled to have an unexpected day off.
“Maybe we’ll have a spelling bee,” said Mr. McDougall. He was walking at the back with the slower Grade Ones.
“That’s a great idea,” exclaimed Bonnie. She might be picked last for baseball, but not for spelling.
Then, as she turned to smile at the teacher, relishing the thought of another win, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.
Someone had fallen into the snow. It was a child, lying face-down in the frozen whiteness.
Bonnie ran back but the teacher reached his pupil first and was turning the child over.
It was little Grace Danford.
Her body was limp and motionless as Mr. McDougall knelt down to pick her up. Her face was as white as the snow in which she lay.
THIRTEEN: FEVER
The children trailed along in silence beside and behind Mr. McDougall now as he carried Grace across the schoolyard. At the gate, he stopped and looking down at the child, whose eyelids flickered open, he smiled kindly at her. Then he turned to his pupils.
“Tom,” he said, “you run to Billy Weir’s store and ask him to phone the Danfords and Dr. Wright. Tell them we’ll be in the town hall.”
Tom darted on ahead through the gate and across the street toward the General Store. The forlorn pupils tramped slowly across the road and around to the big fence that Slinky opened wide. Bonnie glanced briefly in the direction of the ice pond that was now completely covered in snow. Then the children filed up the half dozen steps and into the upstairs hallway of the old town hall.
It was almost as cold and chilly inside the frame building as it had been outside. The wind and snow buffeted the northwest side, letting cold drafts blow in around the windows. Siftings of snow had settled there and also over most of the wooden chairs.
“Go to the basement,” said Mr. McDougall. “It’ll be warmer.”
They found a roaring wood fire in the pot-bellied stove and beside it sat Mr. Hubbs. “Well, I’ve got her going good,” he said. “What have we here?” he added, when he saw Grace.
“Grace Danford fainted but she’s come ’round. I sent Tom to phone for her parents and the doctor.”
“I’ll go upstairs and wave them in when I see them coming,” said Mr. Hubbs. He hurried up the steep stairs.
“Now, children,” said Mr. McDougall. “We need a bed for Grace.”
Lizzie spoke up. “We’ll put chairs together.” She and Angela dragged two chairs off the stacked heap of them, and it made just room enough for Grace’s bed.
“Wait!” said Archie. He pulled off his coat and laid it on the chair. Grace’s brothers stood frowning and motionless—almost as if in a daze.
“Thank you, Archie,” said the teacher. He laid Grace very carefully onto the makeshift bed—coat and all. Then he wrapped her snugly on all sides with Archie’s coat.
The whole class crowded around Grace. Her colour had come back, and her cheeks were even a little flushed now. The younger Danford boy started to whimper. His older brother wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulder.
“Boys, please go upstairs and watch with Mr. Hubbs,” said Mr. McDougall. “We’ll take good care of your sister.” The older boy nodded to Mr. McDougall and pulled his brother gently by the hand.
Then Mr. McDougall looked over the straggly bunch—some with books and some without—and said, “Now, everyone, grab a chair from that stack and make rows over here. It’ll be a make-shift classroom. We’ll—”
“You aren’t going to make us do school work, are you?” said Slinky.
“That’s exactly what we are going to do. We can go over some of your memory verses. This is just the time. But keep your coats on.”
Archie sat shivering. His big sister Lizzie took her coat off and handed it to Archie. But he shook his head and clasped both arms around himself. His face was almost as pale as Grace’s.
Mr. McDougall stared at the irregular rows of chairs. All the grades were mixed up.
He sighed. “I’ve decided to read instead—as long as it’s very quiet so that everyone can hear clearly.” There was a somewhat low mumble of approval and so the teacher shuffled through his bag of books.
Bonnie hoped they’d be quiet—not that anyone was making a great noise at all, but a couple of Grade Ones were sniffling and coughing. Some of the others, like Archie, were shivering out loud, their teeth chattering. Pearl was sniffling into her handkerchief.
“Ah, just the book. The Adventures of Sammy Jay by Thornton W. Burgess.” He glimpsed down at Grace and then took a chair a little distance away.
“Sammy Jay doesn’t mind the cold of winter...” Mr. McDougall began. Bonnie settled into her chair. Soon she was lost in the world of the Green
Meadows and the Green Forest where Sammy Jay liked to play pranks on his friends. Mr. McDougall read surprisingly well—Bonnie could almost imagine Sammy strutting around in his “handsome coat of blue, trimmed with white.”
“Sammy Jay never seems really happy unless he is stirring up trouble for someone else,” the teacher’s voice rang out clearly in the little room that was gradually growing warmer and warmer. “He just delights in—”
“No, no!…Stay away!” screamed little Grace. Mr. McDougall rushed over to her side.
Grace was now sitting up and staring straight ahead in fear. “There’s no one there. You’re just fine,” said Mr. McDougall very kindly. “Now, please lie down.” He put his arm gently around Grace’s small shoulders and helped her lie back. She seemed calmer now.
Clomp, clomp, clomp!
Mr. Hubbs led Dr. Wright down the stairs. “Where’s the child?” he asked, opening his black bag.
“Right here, Doctor,” said Mr. McDougall.
Dr. Wright bent over Grace. Then he squatted beside her, listened to her heart, and took her temperature under her arm. He stood up and shook his head as he mumbled something to the adults.
Then more steps were heard from above. “She’s down there, Dad. They’re all down here.”
Then Mr. Danford flew down the stairs and rushed to his daughter. He knelt beside Grace and felt her forehead. “She’s burnin’ up—my little Grace is burnin’ up.” He stared at the doctor.
“Just leave her here for the moment,” said Dr. Wright. “Mr. Danford, come upstairs. I want to give you medicine and instructions for her care. Mr. Hubbs, will you come as well?” Most of the class sat very still and waited.
But Bonnie wiggled on her seat. This day had turned out to be nothing like a holiday. Unexpectedly, it had become horrible.
Mr. Danford came back with two blankets. After warming them for a short time by the stove, he wrapped them snugly around Grace and carried her back up the stairs.
Then Mr. Hubbs joined them again. He mumbled something to Mr. McDougall, who turned to the pupils. “The storm is passed and the sun is shining,” he said. “I’m dismissing school for the day. You may leave for home now. Don’t dawdle. One doesn’t know when another storm might hit.”
No Small Victory Page 11
