The Lesson by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page B

age groupwill find its way into others as well. You watch and see. Soon, you will have that entire schoolroom functioning like a well-oiled machine.”
    She asked about each of the students, and M.K. surprised herself at how much she knew about each one. Much, much more than she had thought she did. “There’s a new girl who looks at me as if I’m a stray cat—pitiful and unwanted.”
    Erma stared at M.K. Then, her little shoulders began to shake, at first only slightly, and then more heavily, until her tiny wrinkled face broke open with a whoop of raspy laughter. She laughed and laughed until tears ran down her face. M.K. felt indignant. She wasn’t trying to be funny! She was only trying to describe the way Jenny looked at her—as if she had no idea how M.K. ended up as a teacher. M.K. had the same thought.
    An hour later, M.K. walked back to Windmill Farm feeling better about everything. Erma had that effect on her. She was an odd person in a lot of ways, full of contrasts. She was one hundred years old, but thought and acted like a much younger person. She lived alone but loved people.
    As M.K. hopped a fence to shortcut through the Smuckers’ goat pasture, there was something else about Erma that kept rolling around in her mind. When Erma was with you, she was really, really with you. She was totally focused on you. She fixed her eyes on you and looked at you as if you were saying the most important thing in the world. She would cock her head sympathetically, ask pertinent questions, and offer her opinions tactfully.
    Unlike Fern, who never concerned herself with tactfulness.
    As M.K. turned up the drive to Windmill Farm, she stopped to get the mail and braced herself to be met with a scolding from Fern. She knew she was running late.
    But no! Fern didn’t even seem to notice she had gone missing all afternoon. Fern was turning the kitchen inside and out, looking for her coffee can of spare cash. She barely looked up when M.K. came inside.
    M.K. tossed the mail on the kitchen table. “What are you looking for?”
    “You didn’t take my coffee can, did you?”
    “No. Of course not.”
    M.K.’s father came inside and noticed the two women taking things out of cupboards.
    “Amos, I can’t find my coffee can,” Fern said. “You didn’t move it, did you?”
    “No,” Amos said, washing his hands at the sink. “Why would I?”
    Fern eyed him. “Well, you were the last one who had it. You’ve been paying that new hired boy cash from it each night.”
    Amos grabbed a dishrag. “I always put it back where I found it.”
    “Wasn’t gone yesterday.” She opened up another cupboard. “Near on two hundred dollars, if a penny.”
    M.K. thought for a moment. “Dad, was the new hired hand in the kitchen with you when you paid him?”
    Fern stilled a moment as she waited for Amos’s answer.
    Amos looked from M.K. to Fern. “Now, wait just a minute. You shouldn’t be tossing accusations at anyone.”
    Fern frowned. “I have yet to meet this fellow. He’s as skittish as a young colt.”
    Another mystery! M.K. was intrigued. “Who is this fellow, Dad?”
    Amos frowned. “He’s the hardest worker I’ve ever seen.”
    M.K. hopped up on the kitchen counter, then hopped offagain when Fern scowled at her. “Dad, what else do you know about him?”
    Amos tossed the dishrag on the counter. “I know that he didn’t take money from Fern’s coffee can. That’s what I know.” He noticed the mail on the table and skimmed through it. Then he took his mail to his desk in the living room.
    M.K. turned to Fern. “Erma Yutzy said she was looking around for some cash that had gone missing.”
    “You were at Erma’s today?” Fern looked pleased.
    “I happened to be walking by her house.”
    “It’s out of the way.”
    “Not today it wasn’t.” The more M.K. thought about it, the more she thought there might be a connection. According to the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes , a person needed motive and