No Small Victory (15 page)

“The Danfords? The new family that moved in next to the Stevenses'?”

“Yes, the ones with the little girl named Grace. They say they'll walk here.”

“Tell them I have to go that way anyway, since the west lane is plugged solid. It'll take me about ten minutes to hitch the horses. So we can meet at the main road by our mailbox. If they start out in ten minutes, we'll meet there about the same time.”

Mum repeated Dad's message as Dad hurried outside to get the horses. Then Mum started winding scarves around Bonnie's neck. There were only three scarves—a yellow one and a red one on top of Bonnie's usual blue one—but it felt like twenty. Hardly anything of Bonnie showed outside the snowsuit, toques, and scarves. Bound up in all those clothes, she waddled out the front door and struggled up into the sleigh beside Dad. Then she quickly got over onto the big sleigh box behind the front seat. Back there, she was protected from the wind.

As the sleigh headed straight across the field to the road, Bonnie nestled down into the straw Dad had piled there. Bonnie still felt cold but, just in time, Dad picked up a thick, old, black buffalo robe with a red lining from underneath his seat and, turning around, quickly flung it over Bonnie. Then off they went again with the horses' reins jingling.

Even across the field, the sleigh bounced up and down as they headed over the large, uneven snowbanks. Bonnie peeked out from underneath the buffalo robe. All she could see was the blistering white snow, so she ducked back under the robe, content to let her father steer the horses through the blizzard. It was warm down there; so she pulled the scarf off her mouth and nose. Breathing was easier.

In a short time, the horses came to a stop. The Danford children—two older boys and their young sister, Grace—hopped into the sleigh. Grace was only in Grade One but she looked even younger. She was shaking with the cold.

“C'mon under the robe with me,” Bonnie called. The little girl crawled right in. Her cheeks were bright red with windburn and frozen tears. “You'll get nice and warm under here. You'll see,” Bonnie said. They both lay on their stomachs in the straw. Their heads were raised slightly and their breath mingled and warmed the small air space under the buffalo robe.

“Gee, there!…Haw, I say, haw…You can make it…. Haw! Haw!” The girls caught only fragments of the commands as Dad directed the horses right and left. But they could feel every jerk, pitch, and sway of the sleigh.

“Are we…going…to…upset?” Grace gasped out.

Bonnie looked into the small girl's face. “Of course not.” Then she put her arm around the little girl, who cuddled closer to her.

“It's more fun to ride in a sleigh than in a car because you get to go up and down. When you go for a sleigh ride down a hill, sometimes the bumps send you flying up in the air. Now you get all the fun of bumps but you don't have to worry about flying up in the air. Not with this heavy buffalo robe.”

Grace sighed deeply and said no more. In fact, she was so quiet that Bonnie wondered if she had gone to sleep.

“Grace, are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like school?”

“Most of the time. But it's a long way to walk. So cold.”

Finally, the sleigh's motion smoothed out somewhat. Bonnie peeked out and sure enough, they were at the edge of Lang. Bonnie could hear many thumps, as more kids jumped onto the sleigh. Dad was laughing and saying, “Good job I brought a team instead of one horse and the cutter.” Of course, Bonnie knew that the small sleigh could not have gotten through such high snowbanks without tipping over. It was not like Prince Edward County, where they used to live. The roads there were almost always cleared and even cars could get through the five miles to Belleville.

“The train stops here,” shouted Dad. “All out!” He flung back the robe just in time for Bonnie to see Marianne and eight children from Lang jump off the back of the sleigh. Angela and Archie were nowhere in sight.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Brown,” said Marianne.

Bonnie helped little Grace Danford jump down from the sleigh. The older brothers, who were supposed to take care of her, had run ahead. They were already halfway across the schoolyard. Bonnie couldn't help being annoyed with them, but she understood why they were impatient. Grace was slow and clumsy in her many layers of woollen clothes.

Slinky was sweeping off the pupils with a broom on the front stoop. “Mr. McDougall's instructions,” he said proudly as he whacked away.

“You don't need to knock my ear off,” said Marianne, stepping back from the heavy-handed broom wielder. She gave him a poke with her fist and then ducked the broom as she swished inside. Grace got only one sweep and Bonnie was swept lightly as she pushed inside behind the others.

Archie and Angela were already inside, placing their mitts on the tin frame that ran all the way around the stove. Bonnie squeezed hers and Grace's mitts between Angela's and Archie's. Then Bonnie and her small charge hurried to their seats just in time for the opening exercises: the national anthem, “God Save the King,” and “The Lord's Prayer.”

As Bonnie looked around the room, she was surprised to see that a number of seats were empty. All the absentees were from Lang. Funny, she thought. They were so close to the school, they could have waded through the snowbanks if they'd really wanted to come. Bonnie shivered. The room was sheltered from the wind, but she could still hear it howling outside. The little box stove seemed to be struggling to keep the room warm.

“Archie, would you please put in some more kindling?” said Mr. McDougall. “I've left it there at the back of the room.”

Archie looked sceptically up at the stovepipe as he opened the heavy front door of the little stove. It was red hot in two places. “Mr….” he said. “Mr. McDougall, I think…”

“Archie, just do as you're told. We need more heat. Classes, read your instructions on the blackboard. But Grade Ones, open your
Mary, John, and Peter
readers to page twenty. I will start with your reading lesson today.” Mr. McDougall opened his own book and smiled as he watched the pupils in the front row open their books. Grace was the only one who couldn't find the spot. Her cold fingers were shaking and she was fumbling through the pages.

“There, Grace,” said Mr. McDougall as he found the place for her. “Are your fingers so cold? You look warm enough.”

“Mr. McDougall,” Archie interrupted. “I don't think…”

“Archie!” the teacher shot back. “Do as you're told.” Then he turned to Grace again.

“I have the place now. Thank you, Mr. McDougall,” Grace mumbled in a tone not much louder than a whisper.

Archie grimaced as he threw in the rest of the kindling. Then he shut the damper on the stovepipe before walking to his seat.

“Archie, did you shut that damper?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open it up. There are cold children in here.”

“But, Mr. McDougall, I don't think—”

“Archie!”

Archie trudged silently back to the stove and opened the damper. He gave Angela a worried look on the way back to his seat, but only Bonnie saw it.

“Grace,” said Mr. McDougall. “What is the matter?”

The child had laid her head down on her arms. She raised her head a little and peeked up over her arms at the teacher. “I'm so cold…. I feel awful.”

“Rest a bit, then,” said Mr. McDougall. “It must have been that cold ride to school. And when your mitts are dry, you may put them on…. Bonnie, bring Grace's coat out of the cloakroom and put it beside the stove. When it warms up a little, she can put it on, as well.”

The wind was still howling outside, but the little room was growing warmer and warmer. The sizzling smell of drying wool mittens filled the air. The children didn't think anything about the smell. They were used to it.

But then a great roaring noise rose above the sounds of reading, coughing, and sniffling. Every eye looked up at the stovepipe. It had turned completely red.

“Chimney fire!” Archie shouted as loudly as he could.

A mad scramble followed. Most pupils rushed to the cloakroom for their coats while a few of the older girls and the little Grade Ones looked to the teacher.

“Wait,” Mr. McDougall said, clearing his throat.

Everyone turned around and stared at the teacher.

“The Grade Eights must help the Grade Ones. And no pushing as the rest of you leave. Just wait out in the side shed. The pipes'll burn out in no time. But just in case they don't, Tom, you call the men from the village. They'll be at Billy Weir's. Hurry!” Everyone knew there were always village men gathered around the pot-bellied stove at the General Store to swap stories on cold winter days. A few farmers often joined them, waiting for their oats to be ground for chop while they picked up a few supplies.

Outside, sparks were flying up into the air and onto the roof, where they hissed out onto the thick coating of snow. The children were clustered in the schoolyard, looking like ice statues as they gazed up at the chimney. Only a few were wearing their mitts. Most had been too afraid of the roaring stove to pick them up, so they were trying to keep warm by putting their hands deep in their pockets.

Bonnie thought about all the school work she was planning to show the teacher that morning, and the book that she'd borrowed from the church library and had tucked inside her desk. She couldn't let anything happen to that book. It wasn't even hers. She started up the steps, but before she reached the door, Archie ran up behind and grabbed her.

“Are you crazy?” he asked, holding her arm firmly. “You can't go back in there.” His hair was blowing furiously around his hatless head. His face was red with the cold. “The schoolhouse could burst into flames at any minute!”

“But it's only a stovepipe fire. We've had them before. They burn out once all the soot is gone.”

“You can't be sure. Some of the sparks could have gotten into the chimney wall, or those hot pipes could break. If they do, those sparks will get a fire going fast in that classroom. It's all full of dry wooden desks and papers.”

“That's why I have to get my things!” Bonnie said fiercely.

“You're not going in there, Bonnie. Anyway, the men will be here soon. They'll put the fire out.” Bonnie could see that Archie was serious. He was also holding her arm in a vice-like grip. So she turned around and went back down the steps with him. Her cheeks were flushed as they joined the group again. Archie kept his hand on her arm as though he was protecting her.

The jingle of bells filled the air as a sleigh came tearing across the snow-filled yard and stopped abruptly right in front of the school. Two sturdy men jumped off before it had come to a complete stop. Eight more followed once the horses stood still.

Marianne flew over to speak to her father, who happened to be one of the men at Mr. Weir's store. “We think it's only a chimney fire but it's a bad one. The pipes were red-hot and roaring!”

Two men tore up the steps while three raced around to the side of the school with a ladder. One of the three clambered up to the roof. The children huddled together and watched as the wind whirled around them.

“Seems to be all right up here,” said the man on the ladder. “I can see where a few sparks landed but the snow was so deep they went out before catching fire. And there are no more sparks flying out of the chimney.”

“I'd guess the fire's burned itself out,” said one of the men at the foot of the ladder. “Thank God for that. It would have been a wild day to have the whole school on fire.”

Just then, the men came out from inside the schoolhouse. “Well, that there chimney is burnt out. She'll cause no more trouble today.”

“But it might not be wise to start her up too soon,” said the other firefighter as he stepped down the school steps.

“You're right there, but what do we do with the young 'uns? Their parents won't be comin' for 'em till the end of the school day and if the storm is over, they might not come at all. But we can't send them walkin' home now—in this!”

“Best put 'em up in the town hall till four o'clock,” said Mr. Hubbs. “The teacher can leave a sign on the school door.” Everyone knew that Mr. Hubbs was chairman of the school board. So they'd be headed for the town hall for sure and Bonnie was already looking forward to it. Maybe they'd even plan another concert like the Christmas one she had missed.

With the excitement over, the teacher made an announcement. “You may go back inside for your boots and lunches, and any books that you can carry and take home today. We will not be moving back into the schoolhouse until tomorrow morning. Move quickly, everyone!”

Back inside the school, Bonnie shuffled everything out of her desk and into her burlap bookbag. Mum had made it a few weeks ago out of a grain bag. At first, Bonnie hadn't liked it, but she had to admit it was strong. It would carry all her books, as well as the borrowed ones. Mum had also embroidered a beautiful big red peony on the front, which made it the envy of all the other girls.

Bonnie stuffed the bag full of her books and scribblers. What if there were still a few sparks around, smouldering away, ready to set the schoolhouse ablaze in the night? She wasn't taking any chances. After all, she was getting a ride home tonight with the Danfords, so it didn't matter if her bag was heavy.

Archie came up beside her and offered to carry the bag. “Oh, thank you,” she said and quickly held it out. Archie grimaced at the unexpected weight, then slung the bag over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

The students laughed and joked as they lumbered along through the snow. The wind was not blowing so hard now and they were thrilled to have an unexpected day off.

“Maybe we'll have a spelling bee,” said Mr. McDougall. He was walking at the back with the slower Grade Ones.