strength coming back, and with it a mind-set as hard as Grandma’s. If she stayed away, everyone would know why. She didn’t want them laughing or, worse, pitying her. Grandma was right. “I’ll go.”
“Of course you will.” Grandma patted her shoulder before getting to her feet. “Wash your hands and face, then come help me fix dinner. The best medicine for disappointment is hard work.”
Lexie didn’t know if that was true, but she felt a little better until she ran upstairs and searched all through her room for the letter that wasn’t there.
On the day of the good-bye party for the dolls, Grandpa had to work. Jack’s mother couldn’t leave the boardinghouse, so Jack, Lexie, and Grandma climbed aboard a crowded trolley to ride through a light rain to the Portland wharf.
Jack held on to an overhead strap near Lexie and looked at her as if afraid she might break down. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She made herself smile. “This is going to be the bee’s knees. I can’t wait to congratulate the winner!”
Even though she had used one of Mama’s flapper expressions, she felt Grandma’s approval. A glance at Jack said he didn’t believe her, flapper expression or not.
The Oregon Journal
had published a story about the dolls and the farewell celebration. The public was invited, so the school had arranged to use a large warehouse along the dock.
Folding chairs filled the room. Already parents and children were finding seats. Occasional shafts of sunlight broke through the high windows, glimmering over clothing and striping the wood floor. A Christmas tree stood below the stage at one end, but the rest of the room decorations were meant to make the audience think of Japan.
Several dolls sent from other towns and nearby states stood in their upright boxes along a table at the head of the room. Each one had a small suitcase at her feet. The dolls’ tickets and passports lay nearby. They would all leave from here for San Francisco.
The children and their families and friends filed by the tables for a closer look at the dolls. Grandma opened the passport beside Emily Grace. Inside, it gave her name and said she was a good citizen, promising, “She will obey all the laws and customs of your country.”
Grandma marveled. “It’s as though she were going traveling.”
“She is,” Lexie reminded her.
“You’re right. She’s going farther than either of us is likely to go.”
Lexie looked sadly at Emily Grace. She stood near the center of the line of dolls, smiling out at the audience as if she knew adventure lay just ahead and couldn’t wait to begin. “I’ll miss you,” Lexie whispered.
A ship’s horn blasted outside on the river, briefly overwhelming conversation in the warehouse as everyone settled into seats.
“You okay?” Jack asked again, dropping into a folding chair beside Lexie. She nodded, giving him the big smile she had practiced. No one was going to watch her heart break.
“You look like the Cheshire Cat,” he said. When she made her smile even bigger, he laughed and turned to talk to a friend in the row behind. At least he was sitting beside her. She had half expected him to find a seat across the room.
The high-school band tuned their instruments at one side of the dolls’ table. Excitement crackled as everyone waited to hear who, of all the girls in the class, would be going to San Francisco with Emily Grace.
Lexie looked at the other dolls. Many were from schools or towns in Oregon. Others were from the nearby states of Washington and Idaho. She knew that many groups from churches to parent-teacher organizations and Girl Scouts had helped buy and dress the dolls.
“Look there,” Grandma said. “That one’s dressed up like one of Florence Nightingale’s nurses. Weren’t they supposed to look like average American girls?”
“That’s what the instructions said.” Lexie was surprised by the clothing choices, too. Another was a boy doll dressed in
“Of course you will.” Grandma patted her shoulder before getting to her feet. “Wash your hands and face, then come help me fix dinner. The best medicine for disappointment is hard work.”
Lexie didn’t know if that was true, but she felt a little better until she ran upstairs and searched all through her room for the letter that wasn’t there.
On the day of the good-bye party for the dolls, Grandpa had to work. Jack’s mother couldn’t leave the boardinghouse, so Jack, Lexie, and Grandma climbed aboard a crowded trolley to ride through a light rain to the Portland wharf.
Jack held on to an overhead strap near Lexie and looked at her as if afraid she might break down. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She made herself smile. “This is going to be the bee’s knees. I can’t wait to congratulate the winner!”
Even though she had used one of Mama’s flapper expressions, she felt Grandma’s approval. A glance at Jack said he didn’t believe her, flapper expression or not.
The Oregon Journal
had published a story about the dolls and the farewell celebration. The public was invited, so the school had arranged to use a large warehouse along the dock.
Folding chairs filled the room. Already parents and children were finding seats. Occasional shafts of sunlight broke through the high windows, glimmering over clothing and striping the wood floor. A Christmas tree stood below the stage at one end, but the rest of the room decorations were meant to make the audience think of Japan.
Several dolls sent from other towns and nearby states stood in their upright boxes along a table at the head of the room. Each one had a small suitcase at her feet. The dolls’ tickets and passports lay nearby. They would all leave from here for San Francisco.
The children and their families and friends filed by the tables for a closer look at the dolls. Grandma opened the passport beside Emily Grace. Inside, it gave her name and said she was a good citizen, promising, “She will obey all the laws and customs of your country.”
Grandma marveled. “It’s as though she were going traveling.”
“She is,” Lexie reminded her.
“You’re right. She’s going farther than either of us is likely to go.”
Lexie looked sadly at Emily Grace. She stood near the center of the line of dolls, smiling out at the audience as if she knew adventure lay just ahead and couldn’t wait to begin. “I’ll miss you,” Lexie whispered.
A ship’s horn blasted outside on the river, briefly overwhelming conversation in the warehouse as everyone settled into seats.
“You okay?” Jack asked again, dropping into a folding chair beside Lexie. She nodded, giving him the big smile she had practiced. No one was going to watch her heart break.
“You look like the Cheshire Cat,” he said. When she made her smile even bigger, he laughed and turned to talk to a friend in the row behind. At least he was sitting beside her. She had half expected him to find a seat across the room.
The high-school band tuned their instruments at one side of the dolls’ table. Excitement crackled as everyone waited to hear who, of all the girls in the class, would be going to San Francisco with Emily Grace.
Lexie looked at the other dolls. Many were from schools or towns in Oregon. Others were from the nearby states of Washington and Idaho. She knew that many groups from churches to parent-teacher organizations and Girl Scouts had helped buy and dress the dolls.
“Look there,” Grandma said. “That one’s dressed up like one of Florence Nightingale’s nurses. Weren’t they supposed to look like average American girls?”
“That’s what the instructions said.” Lexie was surprised by the clothing choices, too. Another was a boy doll dressed in
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