“Hmmm,” she said under her breath. “Maybe a poem about Windy.” She thought about that for a moment. “Or about the snow we’ve had this winter. Or . . .” She was out of possibilities.
Maybe when she got home she would be able to think better.
Joe seemed to be having no problem as he hurriedly scribbled away. Mandie noticed that Faith was writing something very slowly. Her other class-mates were bent over their tablets.
Mandie was surprised when the school bell rang for dismissal. Glancing at the big clock at the front of the schoolroom, she saw that it was indeed time to go home. Where had the afternoon gone?
On the way home Faith declared, “I can’t decide what to write a poem about.” Looking at Joe and Mandie, she asked, “Have y’all?”
Mandie waited to see what Joe’s reply would be, but he just grinned at the two girls and kept walking.
“Well, I haven’t either,” Mandie told Faith. “I’ll decide when I get home.”
After Faith left them at the crossroads to continue on her way to Miss Abigail’s house, Mandie tried to find out why Joe was being so secretive.
“Joe, please tell me your secret. Please?” she said, walking fast to keep up with him.
“Mandie, I told you I don’t have a secret. There’s no secret to talk about,” Joe replied.
“Then why are you acting so happy today?” Mandie asked.
“What are you writing your poem about?” he asked instead of answering.
“What are you writing your poem about?” Mandie asked.
“I asked first,” Joe reminded her, grinning as they continued down the road. “What are you writing about? Do you hope to become the first class poet?”
Mandie stomped her feet as she walked on. “I don’t know what I’m going to write about right now. I haven’t decided,” she said. “And I am not interested in being class poet. Now, I answered your questions. Why don’t you answer mine?”
“But I did, Mandie,” Joe declared.
“No, you didn’t,” Mandie replied. “You didn’t say what you are writing your poem about.”
Joe ran his fingers through his brown hair as they continued down the road. “I can’t really answer that because right now I am trying out several ideas and don’t know which one I will settle on.” He grinned down at her. “Now, does that settle your inquiry?”
“Will you let me know in the morning on the way to school what your poem is about?” Mandie persisted.
“Maybe,” Joe said. “If you promise to tell me what yours is about.”
“All right, then,” Mandie answered, taking a deep breath as they came to the path leading to the Shaws’ house. Joe handed her books to her.
“See you in the morning,” he said, turning to go down the road.
“Don’t forget to ask your father about someone being seen at Mrs. Chapman’s house and all that,” Mandie called to him.
“All right,” Joe yelled back.
As she started on down toward her house, Mandie thought about a possible explanation for the person Mrs. Clifton had seen. Maybe Mandie’s father had heard something about this. She looked down the pathway and smiled as she saw him working on the split-rail fence he was putting up around their property. She hurried forward to ask questions that he might be able to answer.
Then she remembered her missing book. That was a problem she did not wish to discuss with her father or her mother right now. She knew she would have to sooner or later if she didn’t find the book, but just maybe it would turn up somewhere. She smiled as she realized she had not had a reading assignment in class or for homework. She had managed another day without her book.
Windy came running to meet her, and she stooped to pick up the cat. “Maybe I’ll just write my poem about you, Windy.” Mandie rubbed her cheek on the cat’s fur, and Windy purred loudly.
Her father called to her. “Have a nice day at school?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy,” Mandie replied, hurrying to his side. “We didn’t do much today, and we don’t even have any homework except to write a poem.” Without taking a breath, she asked, “Daddy, have you seen anyone prowling around Mrs. Chapman’s house?” She looked up at him, anxiously awaiting his reply.
“Someone prowling around Mrs. Chapman’s house? No, I haven’t. What makes you ask that?” Mr. Shaw asked, straightening up from his task.
Mandie explained about Mrs. Clifton’s seeing someone there.
“Well now, I suppose some of us men should go back over there and check things out,” Mr. Shaw replied. “We worked on the outside this morning. We didn’t go inside the house.”
“Daddy, please let me go with you, please,” Mandie instantly begged.
“Not this time, Amanda,” Mr. Shaw said. “I’ll ride the horse over to Lakey’s house and we men will get together from there. I won’t be taking the wagon.” He began picking up his tools. “I’ll need to get started right away, while it’s still daylight.”
Mandie was disappointed. “Will you tell me all about everything when you come back?” she asked.
“Of course, Amanda,” her father replied. “Now, you run along into the house and tell your mother where I am going. That will save me a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Mandie said, turning down the lane to the back door of the house. “Please hurry back,” she called to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Shaw replied with a grin.
When Mandie stepped into the kitchen, she found her mother already preparing supper. Mandie set Windy down and took off her coat.
“Mama, I’m supposed to tell you that Daddy has gone to Mr. Lakey’s house and will get all the men to go over to Mrs. Chapman’s house,” Mandie began explaining, and related the story about someone’s being seen over there.
“Well now, I suppose he won’t be gone long, so you just get in there and get your homework done and I’ll get supper ready,” Mrs. Shaw replied, checking the contents of a pot on the cookstove.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mandie said, going to hang her coat on the peg by the parlor door.
She took her books into the parlor and sat down. Looking at the books, she mumbled, “Now, why did I bring all those books home when I don’t have any homework in any of them?”
Mandie was frustrated with Joe. She was sure he was hiding a secret about something. And there was no way she could get him to discuss it.
She picked up her tablet from the pile of books and turned to a clean sheet. She definitely had to write a poem about something.
“Maybe I’ll write one about Joe’s secret. I could make up a secret that he just might have,” she said thoughtfully. She grinned to herself. “And we will probably have to read these poems in class. What would he say then? Might be fun.”
She settled down with her pencil and began.
4
Writing Poetry
THE NEXT MORNING when Joe went to take Mandie’s books, she insisted on holding on to the tablet. That was where she had hidden her poem.
“No, I’ll carry this,” she said, handing her books to Joe and tightening her grasp on her tablet.
Joe looked at her in surprise. “Why don’t you want me to take the tablet? I always carry everything for you.”
“Well, not this time,” Mandie replied, frowning as she tried to avoid his brown eyes. “It’s not very heavy. I’ll carry it.”
“Hmmm!” Joe muttered. “You’re afraid I’ll look at your poem, aren’t you? Because the poem is bound to be in that tablet.” He grinned.
“Well . . . ,” Mandie said slowly, “you are not offering to let me read your poem, so you can’t read mine.”
Joe started up the road. Mandie quickly followed.
“Just don’t forget, you’ll have to read it out loud in class where everyone will hear you,” Joe reminded her.
“I know, but that will be different,” Mandie said. Trying to change the subject, she asked, “Did you ask your father about the Chapman house? I asked my father and he and some of the men went o
ver there to look around after I got home from school. They couldn’t find any sign of anyone or anything wrong over there.”
“My father said we should stay away from there until someone finds out about this person Mrs. Clifton has been seeing. And he was going to talk to your father and some of the neighborhood men who have been working on the old house,” Joe told her. “He thought it could have been someone just passing through and stopping there to rest awhile.”
“Maybe whoever it was has gone on and won’t be back again,” Mandie said, breathing in the crisp morning air. Part of her hoped the person was gone—but another part of her hoped not. Then there would be a mystery to solve!
“How long is your poem?” Joe asked as they continued down the road.
“Not very long,” Mandie replied. If he wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to know, she was not going to give him any details.
“Like a dozen lines or so?” Joe asked, looking down at her.
“Oh, no, not that many,” Mandie answered. “It’s short, so I won’t have to take a lot of time reading it in class.”
“So is mine,” Joe finally admitted. “Even so, it’s sure going to take a long time to get all our poems read and discussed.”
Mandie shrugged. “I suppose so.We probably won’t have time to do anything else in class. And I hope we won’t have to use our reading books today.”
“Because you haven’t found your reading book yet, have you?” Joe asked.
“No, but I’m still looking,” Mandie told him. “And before you ask me, I have not told my parents yet that it’s missing.”
“I’m surprised your sister has not told them,” Joe remarked.
“I am too, but I suppose she has just not thought of it at the right time,” Mandie said.
“Maybe you’ll find it before Irene tells,” Joe said.
“I have searched the kitchen and the pantry, and as soon as I get a chance I’ll search the upstairs,” Mandie said.
As they came to the crossroads, Mandie saw Faith waiting at the intersection. She and Joe hurried to join her.
“I wanted to catch you to let you know I have permission to go to your house after school today,” Faith told Mandie. “Miss Abigail will be there again with the other ladies working on needlework and I can go home with her.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Mandie replied as the three walked on down the road toward the schoolhouse.
“Have y’all got your poems ready?” Faith asked.
“All done,” Joe said.
“I wrote mine, but I’m not sure I want to read it in class,” Mandie admitted.
“Aha!” Joe exclaimed. “I knew you weren’t very happy about writing the poem.”
“I’m just not sure how it will sound when I read it out loud,” Mandie said.
“I’m sure it will be fine. Why, most of our class probably doesn’t know how to begin to write a poem. I think it’s going to be a hilarious time,” Faith said with a big smile.
And it did turn out to be a hilarious day at school. The pupils giggled and laughed and sometimes howled as the others read their poems. Mr. Tallant tried to keep silence in the room, but it was impossible, so he finally gave up.
Then it was Joe’s turn to read his poem. Mandie straightened up to listen.
Joe cleared his throat and began. “There’s a particular lass in this class, with blond hair and skin fair—”
Mandie quickly covered her ears as she felt her face turn red. She was the only one in the class with really blond hair. She tried to close out Joe’s voice, but everyone had fallen silent to listen and she could hear a word now and then.
“And you can be sure she’ll find a mystery here,” Joe finished.
Everyone clapped, and Mandie put her hands over her face. It was embarrassing to have a poem written about you and then read aloud to your friends. She didn’t like it at all.
Then she heard Mr. Tallant calling on her to read her poem. She had come prepared. She quickly flipped open her tablet, pushed the poem she had written about Joe between two blank pages, and took out another poem, this one about her cat. She had not been sure she would be able to stand up and read the poem about Joe. Now she was sure she would not.
“Windy is my little yellow cat,” Mandie began, standing before the class. “The day was windy when I named her that, and like the wind she breezes in and out of the house, always looking for a mouse. Although our language we can’t mend, she is my own trusted little friend.”
The class howled, stomped, and clapped when she finished. Mandie smiled and sat down at her desk.
The reading of the poems and the discussions concerning them took up the whole day, and when time came for dismissal, Mr. Tallant stood up and told the class, “You have all done a good job at writing poetry, but we are not going to have time to vote on the class poet today. Since today is Friday, I want you all to think about the different poems read today and make your decision by Monday about which one you want to vote for. The writer of the winning poem will be made class poet. Now, have a nice weekend.”
Everyone stood up, ready to rush outside. Loud conversations drifted about the room as some of the pupils discussed the poems. Mandie didn’t want to hear her poem talked about, so she hurried to the door, grabbed her coat, and went outside. Faith and Joe followed her.
“That wasn’t—” Joe began as the three walked down the road.
“I don’t want to discuss it,” Mandie interrupted. “Let’s talk about something else.” She turned to Faith. “Did your grandmother hear from the people in Tellico?”
Joe frowned as they walked on. Faith looked at Joe, smiled, and then answered, “No, Mandie, not yet. I don’t think they’ve had time yet to reply.”
“Maybe y’all won’t have to move,” Mandie said.
“But, Mandie, if my grandmother gets the job, we will. It’s too far to travel over there and back every day.You know that,” Faith reminded her.
Mandie sighed loudly. “I know. I just hate to see you move away.”
“And I hate to move away and leave my friends here, but I’m glad for my grandmother’s sake,” Faith said. “If we do move, maybe you could spend a weekend now and then, and I could come over and spend a weekend at your house.”
“And what about me? Can I come too?” Joe teased as he slowed down so the girls could keep up with him.
Faith laughed. “Of course, Joe, anytime.”
“Come to think of it, I’m sure my father has some patients over at Tellico, since there is not a doctor near there that I know of,” Joe said. “My father probably travels over there now and then.” Turning to Mandie, he said, “You and I could go with him sometime.”
“Oh, yes, that would be nice,” Mandie agreed.
When the three arrived at the pathway to the Shaw house, Faith asked, “Joe, why don’t you come on down to Mandie’s house and do your homework with us? Your mother is probably here with the ladies doing needlework.”
“I’ll go on down to the house with y’all and see,” Joe answered.
Mrs. Woodard was there in the parlor with Miss Abigail and Esther’s mother, Mrs. Rogan. Esther had not come. Mrs. Shaw looked up when the three entered the room. “There are some chocolate cookies in the kitchen left from our tea, if you young people are interested,” she said. “And a pot of coffee.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Shaw,” Joe replied, grinning.
“We are going to do our homework in the kitchen, and I’ll take care of everything. Thank you, Mama,” Mandie said, hanging her coat on a peg on the wall as Joe and Faith did likewise. Then the three started toward the kitchen door.
“Don’t eat too many of those cookies, Joe. I’m sure Mrs. Miller will have our supper ready when we get home, and we aren’t staying much longer,” Mrs. Woodard said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said.
After Mandie and her friends were settled around the table in the kitchen with their books and cookies and coffee, Faith offered Mandie her reading book. “Here, r
ead the next assignment in here,” she said. “I know you don’t have your book, and this way you can be one day ahead of lessons.”
Mandie took the book and opened it. “Thanks, Faith.” She hesitated. “Do you think the school over in Tellico will have the same books we have here in our school?”
Faith looked surprised. “I don’t know, Mandie. I suppose all schools in this area would have the same books.”
“But that’s over the line in Tennessee, and they might not,” Joe said, looking from Faith to Mandie.
If Faith was not going to have the same books, maybe she would let Mandie have her reading book when she moved.
The three finished their homework just as the women finished their afternoon needlework and prepared to leave. Everyone was standing around in the kitchen talking.
Mandie turned to Faith. “Thank you for letting me use your book,” she told Faith.
Mrs. Shaw heard the remark and asked, “Amanda, where is your book?”
Mandie blinked. “I don’t have it right now, and—”
At that moment Irene rushed in through the back door. “Mama, can I go to Bryson City? Tommy Lester’s mother and father are going to Bryson City next Saturday, and I want to go. May I, please?” She stood before her mother, waiting for a reply.
Mrs. Shaw frowned. “Irene, please calm down. As you see, we have other people visiting us here. Now, just why are Mr. and Mrs. Lester going to Bryson City?”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t really know. Tommy just said they were going. Please, let me go with them.”
Mandie decided she would like to go also. “And may I go too, Mother?” she asked.
Mrs. Woodard looked around the room and said, “My, my, all the young ones wanting to go to Bryson City. You too, I suppose, Joe?” She looked at her son.
Joe grinned. “Of course if everyone else is going I’d like to go too.”
Then Miss Abigail looked at Faith, who was silently listening. “Are you not interested in this journey over to Bryson City, Faith?”
The Missing Book Page 3
