No Small Victory

by Connie Brummel Crook

  “Look at them!” Mr. Hubbs exploded. “They’re all scratching away!…And you never noticed it? Man, have you no eyes in your head? This problem could have been caught in the bud. But now we have an epidemic on our hands!”

  “I…uhh…” For once, Mr. McDougall was speechless.

  “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do about it. You’re going to march this lot—every last one of them—down to Keene. Dr. Wright will be in the office this afternoon. He and his nurse will examine everyone. A note will be sent home to tell parents how to treat head lice.”

  Mr. McDougall’s face had flushed completely red but his voice had finally returned. “Is there a means of transportation for the younger students?”

  “It’s only three miles to Keene. The bigger ones can help the little ones. There’s Tom there—a sturdy lad—he could take a Grade One pupil on his shoulders. And the Grade Eight girls could join hands and make seats for other little ones. These ruffians will be just fine. If they can carry cooties without complaint, they can carry other pupils. Have them take their lunches, too, and they can eat there before they come back.”

  “Everyone, you heard Mr. Hubbs. Put away your books. Get your lunch pails,” said Mr. McDougall. “Be outside in three minutes.”

  Bonnie and all the other girls headed for their cloakroom and washroom. Once she was outside, Bonnie’s head did not itch so badly. Maybe it was just the thought of creatures running around in her hair that had made her want to scratch. Many were still scratching.

  At first, everyone enjoyed the walk along the road to Keene. They’d been dreaming of getting outside, and now Mr. Hubbs had given them a holiday! Then the little ones began to lag behind, and the older ones had to help them along. Soon everyone’s feet were dragging.

  Over an hour later, they stumbled up the steps to the verandah in front of Dr. Wright’s office. The younger children flopped right down on the unraked grass. Dr. Wright wasn’t in, but Miss Reid got started.

  “You might as well eat while you’re waiting,” Mr. McDougall told them. “This is going to take a while.”

  Bonnie pushed back the handles of her tin lunch pail and pried open the lid. She wasn’t surprised by what she saw inside: two sandwiches of buttered bread and one suckerball. Archie was eating the same thing, so there was no chance of a trade. But after a few minutes, he offered her a donut.

  Bonnie could hardly believe her luck. Mum never made donuts—they required grease, and they wouldn’t have any until they could afford to kill a pig. This year’s pigs would be sold in the fall, and the money used to pay the rent and some of the debt. That horrible debt took every spare cent.

  As Bonnie was taking the last bite of her donut, Dr. Wright came bustling up the steps, right through the line-up.

  He squeezed his blocky frame through the open doorway, past the line of children. “Sorry I’m late, Harriet,” he said to his nurse. His strong voice carried out to the waiting children. “I’ve had a long night…visited old Mrs. Jones…she’s gone now…then was called to the Maples’ farm. Liza’s had twins. That was a surprise to them, though I’d expected something different.”

  He threw his coat over a chair and rubbed his hands together. “So, onto this lice epidemic….Most homes have this problem from time to time, to be sure. Doesn’t mean they aren’t clean, of course. The way these critters crawl so fast, they spread like lightning—but we’ll get rid of them soon. The girls must be reminded not to use each other’s combs. Not much chance of the boys doing that,” he laughed, “but they must be told not to exchange caps. Are we all ready?”

  “I’ve set things up out here on the verandah so we don’t get any critters inside.”

  “Well, let’s get these children out of here before the sick folk arrive,” he said.

  Bonnie’s turn finally arrived. She’d hoped she’d get the nurse but instead, she had to step up in front of the doctor, whose patience had become rather thin.

  The doctor put two fingers to Bonnie’s curls, rummaged around for a while, peering, and said brusquely, “Well, you do have lice. Next!”

  Bonnie’s heart sank.

  The nurse handed Bonnie a sheet of paper which Bonnie started to read at once. It was all about how parents could treat their children’s lice. The nurse gave Bonnie a little push, and she started down the steps of the verandah with Archie behind her. He was holding a sheet of paper too.

  Soon all the Lang schoolchildren were strolling back to the main road that led through Keene toward home. Some were still eating their lunches while others had lost their appetites. Most of the Grade Ones were whimpering about their heads itching and their feet hurting.

  The thought of the dreadful insects crawling all around her head made Bonnie shudder. That spring, Bonnie had been left to comb her own hair each morning. She had liked that because she didn’t pull out the tangles as hard as her mother did. But now all that would change. Mum would be inspecting her head—and those instructions did not sound like fun.

  Mr. McDougall and Mr. Hubbs were no longer in sight, so the Lang schoolchildren walked on slowly in a silent, solemn way. No one felt like talking. Everyone was glum—even Slinky and Tom.

  The Keene pupils were outside playing and watching a baseball game when the bedraggled bunch from Lang School passed by them. They stopped playing to stare with curiosity.

  “I’m thirsty!” a Grade One pupil grumbled. This set off a whole chorus of requests.

  “Well, I do declare,” said Slinky. “I think I spy a pump; don’t you, Tom?”

  “Yes, I do. C’mon, kids. There’s water enough here for everyone.”

  Tom and Slinky led the way through the narrow gate and into the Keene schoolyard. Tom pumped water for everyone. Most of the pupils had empty cups in their lunch boxes and some shared their cups with the others who had none. The fresh well water tasted very good to the thirsty travellers.

  “Come on, Bonnie,” Tom said. “You can have a drink too.”

  Bonnie wasn’t sure. She might be on better terms with these boys now, but she still remembered the day Tom and Slinky had showered her with pump water at school. She plucked up enough courage to look Tom in the eye. There was no smirk on his face. He looked at Bonnie and said quietly, so no one else would hear, “Here, give me your cup.”

  She fished in her lunch pail and handed it to him. He filled it with water and handed it back. Bonnie took long, deep gulps of the fresh, cold water.

  “Next!” Tom said.

  When Bonnie turned from the well, she gasped. Two rows of Keene pupils had circled around the children at the pump. The bigger boys began shouting, “Get out, you Lang kids! Get out! We don’t want your cooties!”

  Bonnie could hardly believe her ears. How fast the news had spread!

  The jeers were getting louder. “Yeah, get out, cootie kids! Go home to your own town—Bug town, bug town, bug town kids. Bug town, Lang town, on the skids! ”

  Their loud jeering was suddenly overwhelmed by the heavy rattling of their teacher’s bell. Instantly, the Keene pupils turned and ran toward the open door where their teacher stood scowling at them.

  The Lang kids moved away from the pump and went back to the road. Some looked at their toes and some blushed with shame. Even Slinky and Tom had nothing to say. The journey back to the Lang school seemed twice as far as the walk from Lang to Keene.

  Finally, at three o’clock, the stragglers turned off the gravel road and onto the dust-packed route that led into the village of Lang.

  When Tom opened the door to the school, there was Mr. McDougall, marking papers at his desk as if nothing had happened. Every eye looked at him resentfully. He had taken a ride back and left the pupils to fend for themselves. But he returned their looks with his own look of disgust on his face. Utterly demoralized, the children slunk to their seats in silence.

  “It seems that there are only five pupils—two from Grade One and three girls from Grade Eight—who do not have head lice,” Mr. McDougall said. “Each
of you who has been diagnosed with lice must take home the sheet you received from Dr. Wright. I have extras here in case any of you lost your sheets on the way back. Your parents must follow the instructions on the sheet and start your treatment this evening.”

  He attempted a joke next—probably to lighten the atmosphere of doom and gloom that had settled over the classroom. “Tomorrow will be Lice Day,” he said. And then he chuckled.

  No one even smiled.

  Mr. McDougall cleared his throat and went on, “After our National Anthem, you will walk to Keene for inspection by the medical officer of health. This is not my instruction. It is the law! So tell your parents. There can be no truants. Those without lice may stay at home or remain here to work on their own while the rest are going to Keene.”

  Mr. McDougall sat down and several hands flew up in the air.

  “Well, what is it?” Mr. McDougall sounded irritated.

  “Will we go just the once or more often?” asked Angela.

  “Each of you must be examined every day until you are free of lice. For now, follow the instructions on the sheet. Don’t use each other’s combs or wear anyone else’s hat. And don’t sit too near each other. Lice can jump from one head to another if they are not far apart.”

  “But we share desks and even books,” said Tom, without even raising his hand.

  Mr. McDougall just shrugged, unconcerned.

  SEVENTEEN: SHORN

  “Mum, where are you?” Bonnie called as she stepped through the back door and into the log shed—their summer kitchen. The dining room was used only for company, now, and since the chickens had been moved out of the parlour, Mum had unpacked her good furniture. So they finally had two nice rooms in the house.

  “I’m up here, Bonnie!” Mum was upstairs, cleaning out the winter bedrooms. They would be sleeping in the cooler and the more spacious front bedrooms during the summer.

  “I have something important to show you, Mum.”

  “Can’t it keep? I’m awfully busy.”

  “I suppose.” Bonnie plopped the sheet down on the kitchen table. She was not looking forward to telling her mother about the head lice. Well, she had to do her chores first, anyway. So she called Boots and headed out to bring in the cows.

  When she got back, Mum was reading the sheet about the lice. “I can’t believe my eyes,” she said. “Do you have lice, Bonnie?”

  “Most everybody does,” Bonnie squeaked.

  “You must have been using someone else’s comb. How many times have I told you not to use anyone else’s comb!”

  “But I didn’t. Honest. Our teacher says lice can jump from one head to another. So I guess one must have jumped onto me from someone else’s head. Our desks are so close together.”

  “Nonsense! That’s an old wives’ tale. Lice don’t jump or fly—but they do scurry. You must have had your head right next to someone else’s or shared a hat. Don’t get too thick with those Lang kids. I’ll bet the Hubbs and Johnsons don’t have lice!”

  “Yes, they do. That’s how we found out. Mr. Hubbs came to the school because Marianne has lice. Then he sent us all down to Keene to be checked.”

  Mum shook her head. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come over here and let me take a look.”

  Bonnie stood still as her mother parted her curls. “Here they are…” Mum said. “Little white clumps on each strand. And some of the wretched creatures are walking brazenly along your hair as if they own it. And—” Mum dropped the strands of hair she’d been holding as if she’d been burned. “More of them, actually laying eggs! What a mess! You’re covered with lice and nits!”

  Bonnie shuddered and nearly threw up. She no longer cared how unpleasant the treatment might be. She wanted those horrible things out!

  “Go back into the outer shed and take off all your clothes,” said Mum. “I’ll bring you out an old housecoat to put on after you bathe. No point in bathing, though, till after we get you doused with coal oil. Some of it’s bound to drip down.”

  Just beyond the summer kitchen was another roofed area, closed on three sides but open to the south. It was almost like being outside, and Bonnie felt strange, though she knew no one could possibly see into this sheltered area away from the front of the house.

  Bonnie stripped, then stood, shaking and fearful. A fresh breeze was blowing in, and Bonnie started coughing. She hadn’t had a coughing fit for a long, long time. She didn’t even have a towel to cover herself up, since Mum didn’t want her to touch anything for fear of spreading the lice. Mum yanked a big square tin tub off the wall.

  “Won’t the lice get on the tub?” asked Bonnie.

  “They can’t live on tin,” said Mum. “And, anyway, don’t worry. I’ll clean it afterward. We’ll also have to clean everything in this house. We’ll use the copper boiler on the stove for all the bedding, towels, and all your clothes. It’s the only way to kill the eggs. Now, walk out to the grass. I don’t want this coal oil inside the shed. It could start a fire. Close your eyes and keep them closed.”

  Bonnie closed her eyes and squinted. She knew the coal oil would hurt when it reached her head. She waited and waited. Then she realized what was happening. Mum was cutting her hair!

  “Mum!” Bonnie shrieked, stepping back and opening her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m cutting your hair,” Mum said calmly. “It’s so matted that the coal oil won’t get through properly. You’ll thank me later. Your head will be sore enough from the coal oil and lye soap without my pulling on those tangles.” She continued to snip away at Bonnie’s hair.

  “Don’t take it all!” Bonnie begged.

  “I won’t. My goodness, I’ve got the scissors here—not your father’s razor. Don’t worry, the short ends will curl and you’ll look just fine. I hate to think what the kids with straight hair will look like.”

  Bonnie looked down at the ground as chunks of her dark golden curls fell on the floor. It seemed like a lot of hair. How could she possibly look good after this? But she would not be completely bald, like the boys.

  “Now close your eyes,” Mum said gruffly.

  Bonnie gasped as the coal oil hit her head. She’d been scratching and the raw spots were sensitive. They started to sting terribly. Soon her whole head was aflame. But at least the itching had stopped.

  Bonnie kept her eyes shut tightly as Mum led her back into the inner shed. “Stand here and keep your eyes shut. I’ll fill the tub with nice, warm water from the reservoir.”

  After waiting in the chilly air for what seemed like months, Bonnie took Mum’s hand and stepped up and over the side of the tub. She had to cross her ankles and bend her knees to fit, but once she got into the water, it was a nice feeling. Mum gave her a washcloth to put over her eyes.

  “While you’re soaking, I’ll strip your bed and gather up all your clothes. With luck and this wind, your sheets should be dry by bedtime.”

  Half an hour later, Mum returned with hot water to warm up the tub. Then she applied strong lye soap to Bonnie’s short hair and scrubbed hard—pushing Bonnie’s head back and forth. When she thought she’d scrubbed enough, she poured fresh water from a nearby pan over Bonnie’s head. Then she told her to step up and into another tub of fresh rinse water.

  “Just like Monday wash day, Bonnie—wash water, then rinse water.” Bonnie’s face was stinging, and the clear water of the second tub didn’t stop the pain. Little blisters were bursting out over her hairline and in patches on her face. The only thing worse, Bonnie thought, would be bluing. It’s a wonder Mum didn’t add some of that to make her cleaner and whiter! But maybe her mother could see that she was blue enough!

  It was a long evening. All the sheets were plunged into the copper boiler on the stove, then rinsed in two tubs that had been disinfected first with coal oil and then with Lysol. Then the sheets were hung on the line outside.

  When Mum tucked Bonnie in for the night, the sheets on her bed were crisp and white, and a thick towel lay on her pillow to prot
ect it from the light coating of coal oil Mum had reapplied to Bonnie’s hair. “Enough to kill any lice that hatch during the night,” Mum said.

  “How long is this going to go on?” Bonnie asked. The smell of coal oil was making her sick.

  “Probably a week. That should finish them off. Your father and I will have to check each other for lice when he comes in from the barn. He’s taking the time to clean out the horse stable. You know how fussy he is. He likes to keep the barns as clean as I keep the house.” Mum said it with a laugh, but Bonnie knew she was bragging a little about Dad. She also knew how angry he’d be if he had lice. Would he blame her?

  Bonnie sighed and closed her eyes. How could she ever sleep with the coal oil smell all around her? But soon she was thinking of something else. Those Keene kids and their rude taunts! Then she smiled.

  Before she fell asleep, she had a plan.

  EIGHTEEN: BONNIE’S PLAN

  The Lang school kids were a sorry sight as they straggled toward the outskirts of Keene. Most of the boys were bald. All the girls had short-clipped hair.

  Bonnie’s hair looked all right, for the ends had curled and no thin spots were showing. But Bonnie’s face was another matter. It was a mess of blisters around the hairline and across one cheek.

  Of all the pupils, Archie looked the worst. He had no hair left and there were blisters all over his head and face. Angela didn’t have any blisters, but her straight dark hair stuck out in all directions. Lizzie was one of the lucky ones. She didn’t have lice, so she’d stayed at the schoolhouse with the two other Grade Eight girls and the two Grade One students. Mr. McDougall would be teaching them today while the others took the long walk to Keene.

  Bonnie was wearing an old pair of navy blue slacks and a shirt that had been made over so often it was almost completely covered with patches. All her other clothes were still drying. Her head was sore, both outside and in, for she couldn’t stop thinking about the horrible kids at the Keene school. What would they be yelling when they saw this sorry parade heading into the village today?