happened?”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. Should she tell him? She shrugged.
“I just hit the cow in the wrong place and hurt my hand.”
Dat raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he started sweeping the feed aisle.
“I’m going for breakfast,” Lizzie called back as she headed out the door.
“Be right in,” Dat answered.
Lizzie slammed the back door a bit harder than necessary. Her future seemed very long and dark if herding cows was her future.
In the house, Mam was frying eggs on the big griddle, her hair combed and her covering positioned neatly on her head. Emma’s hair wasn’t combed, but she had covered it with a man’s handkerchief, which she wore to do barn chores or outside work so her coverings wouldn’t get dirty. Emma always wore her dichly or some sort of head scarf if she wasn’t wearing her covering, because she was conscientious and a good girl who wanted to do what was right. The girls were taught to cover their heads when they prayed, which included the silent prayer before and after meals.
“All done?” Mam asked, smiling at Lizzie.
“Mm-hmm.” Lizzie bent to wash her hands and face at the small sink in the kitchen.
Emma poured orange juice as Mandy came clattering down the stairs, with Jason a few steps behind her.
“Good morning!” Mam sang out.
“Good morning, Mam!” Mandy answered.
“Morning, Mam,” Jason echoed, going to stand beside her so she could reach out and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Mandy, would you please make the toast for me?”
“Sure.” Mandy hurried to do her bidding, while Lizzie stood at the sink glaring at herself in the mirror. Oh, great, another angry-looking pimple, she thought, dragging a fingernail through it. She winced as the pain moved across her forehead.
“Don’t pick your face, Lizzie,” Mandy said from her vigil at the oven door.
“I’m not!”
Mandy raised her eyebrows. But Lizzie just smoothed back her hair and sat down at the table. Lizzie couldn’t stop a huge, gaping yawn. Tears formed in her eyes, and she blinked back her tiredness.
“Boy, Lizzie, you look as if you’re about at the end of your string,” Mandy said.
“The word is rope , not string ,” Lizzie growled.
“Grouch,” Mandy muttered.
“I had to milk, remember?” Lizzie hissed, stifling another yawn as she expertly flipped two fried eggs onto her plate. Mandy was always happy in the morning. She bounced out of bed, humming under her breath as she raced down the stairs to chirp a warm greeting to anyone who was happy enough to answer.
Dat looked closely at Lizzie. He wished she had a better attitude about her new job, but it seemed no matter how hard he tried to make the cow stable a pleasant place, she was always impatient, wanting to be finished with her chores before they had even started. Mandy was exactly the opposite, cheerfully helping and asking questions, learning all she could about the cows, the butterfat content of the milk, or whatever.
“Lizzie, you surprise me,” Dat said as he ate a forkful of egg and toast.
“Why?”
“I guess because you were always the tomboy with the ponies and the ridge. But you really resent milking cows.”
“Is it any wonder?” Lizzie asked sarcastically.
“Why do you say that?”
“Cows are stupid.”
Mam laughed.
“Lizzie, that’s not one bit respectful of my profession,” Dat said.
Lizzie looked up sharply, almost choking on her bite of egg. “Profession? You mean milking cows is a profession, like teaching or making furniture … or … or … stuff like that?”
“It’s a part of farming, a very important part. If it wouldn’t be for the milk we’re shipping, I don’t know how else we’d make a living.”
Lizzie had put a spoonful of fried eggs and toast in her mouth so she couldn’t answer.
She was so hungry after her morning’s work that she ate and ate without even thinking of calories or her weight. She couldn’t wait to cut a fresh piece of shoofly pie and pour
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. Should she tell him? She shrugged.
“I just hit the cow in the wrong place and hurt my hand.”
Dat raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he started sweeping the feed aisle.
“I’m going for breakfast,” Lizzie called back as she headed out the door.
“Be right in,” Dat answered.
Lizzie slammed the back door a bit harder than necessary. Her future seemed very long and dark if herding cows was her future.
In the house, Mam was frying eggs on the big griddle, her hair combed and her covering positioned neatly on her head. Emma’s hair wasn’t combed, but she had covered it with a man’s handkerchief, which she wore to do barn chores or outside work so her coverings wouldn’t get dirty. Emma always wore her dichly or some sort of head scarf if she wasn’t wearing her covering, because she was conscientious and a good girl who wanted to do what was right. The girls were taught to cover their heads when they prayed, which included the silent prayer before and after meals.
“All done?” Mam asked, smiling at Lizzie.
“Mm-hmm.” Lizzie bent to wash her hands and face at the small sink in the kitchen.
Emma poured orange juice as Mandy came clattering down the stairs, with Jason a few steps behind her.
“Good morning!” Mam sang out.
“Good morning, Mam!” Mandy answered.
“Morning, Mam,” Jason echoed, going to stand beside her so she could reach out and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Mandy, would you please make the toast for me?”
“Sure.” Mandy hurried to do her bidding, while Lizzie stood at the sink glaring at herself in the mirror. Oh, great, another angry-looking pimple, she thought, dragging a fingernail through it. She winced as the pain moved across her forehead.
“Don’t pick your face, Lizzie,” Mandy said from her vigil at the oven door.
“I’m not!”
Mandy raised her eyebrows. But Lizzie just smoothed back her hair and sat down at the table. Lizzie couldn’t stop a huge, gaping yawn. Tears formed in her eyes, and she blinked back her tiredness.
“Boy, Lizzie, you look as if you’re about at the end of your string,” Mandy said.
“The word is rope , not string ,” Lizzie growled.
“Grouch,” Mandy muttered.
“I had to milk, remember?” Lizzie hissed, stifling another yawn as she expertly flipped two fried eggs onto her plate. Mandy was always happy in the morning. She bounced out of bed, humming under her breath as she raced down the stairs to chirp a warm greeting to anyone who was happy enough to answer.
Dat looked closely at Lizzie. He wished she had a better attitude about her new job, but it seemed no matter how hard he tried to make the cow stable a pleasant place, she was always impatient, wanting to be finished with her chores before they had even started. Mandy was exactly the opposite, cheerfully helping and asking questions, learning all she could about the cows, the butterfat content of the milk, or whatever.
“Lizzie, you surprise me,” Dat said as he ate a forkful of egg and toast.
“Why?”
“I guess because you were always the tomboy with the ponies and the ridge. But you really resent milking cows.”
“Is it any wonder?” Lizzie asked sarcastically.
“Why do you say that?”
“Cows are stupid.”
Mam laughed.
“Lizzie, that’s not one bit respectful of my profession,” Dat said.
Lizzie looked up sharply, almost choking on her bite of egg. “Profession? You mean milking cows is a profession, like teaching or making furniture … or … or … stuff like that?”
“It’s a part of farming, a very important part. If it wouldn’t be for the milk we’re shipping, I don’t know how else we’d make a living.”
Lizzie had put a spoonful of fried eggs and toast in her mouth so she couldn’t answer.
She was so hungry after her morning’s work that she ate and ate without even thinking of calories or her weight. She couldn’t wait to cut a fresh piece of shoofly pie and pour
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