Sycamore Hill by Francine Rivers Read Free Book Online Page B

assent.
    “The children have not had a teacher for over a year, so you will
have to see that they make up the lost time.” That was a handicap I had not
foreseen.
    “How many children are there?” I asked, silently praying there
would be few enough that such expectations would not be utterly impossible.
    “Sixty-four. Not many for a town this size. Some of the children
do not attend because they are needed at home. Others are too young. There will
be ten new pupils next year.”
    The task ahead of me seemed to grow with each word James Olmstead
spoke. Sixty-four children! Lessons for all levels! Cleaning the schoolhouse
and yard!
    “If children have academic difficulties, you will, of course, be
expected to tutor them after school hours. If any become sick, you will make up
lessons for them to do at home.
    “As for your own social conduct, you are not allowed to entertain
men in your quarters, nor are you to be alone with a man for any reason other
than school business, and then never after five in the afternoon.”
    “Are you serious, Mr. Olmstead?” I asked, unable to believe he
was.
    “Absolutely,” he said, surprised that I should ask. “They are
fairly universal rules, Miss McFarland.”
    “They seem archaic. I can assure you I have no intention of
entertaining men in my quarters, but I am not even allowed to carry on a
sociable conversation with a man except on school business?”
    “That’s correct. You will have as much social contact as you need
with the Mothers’ League, the Women’s Church Guild and the local sewing
circles.” With what Olmstead had already outlined as my duties, I doubted if I
should have the time for any socializing.
    “You’re expected to attend all town meetings; however, you are not
permitted to speak on any issue. You must remain neutral in all political
conversations. As for the subject matter in the classroom, limit your teaching
to reading, writing and arithmetic. Those are the basics, and anything else is
unnecessary frill.”
    I wanted to interrupt and object, but James Olmstead continued
unabated. “Now, about your dress.” I stiffened noticeably as he looked me over
blandly and nodded approval. “Your present outfit is appropriate to your
position, if a bit untidy.” After ten miles of walking, what did the man
expect! “Ankles, wrists and neck are to be covered at all times. You are
permitted to wear browns, grays, black, white or deep green. Anything else you
are not. No furbelows. No jewelry except perhaps a plain watch pin. No ribbons,
no fancy hairpins. Your hair is to be confined at all times.”
    “May I take it down when I go to bed?” I asked dryly, unable to
resist. Olmstead looked shocked.
    “I hope you will not make a habit of speaking in such a manner,”
he criticized, and I wished I had held my tongue.
    “I’m sorry,” I apologized meekly. I suddenly felt very tired and
depressed. I had thought I had escaped oppressive bondage, but apparently I had
cast myself beneath the control of an even harsher master. The new life I had
hoped for stretched dismally ahead of me.
    Emily Olmstead returned to the dining room, having finished the
dishes. She sat down and glanced from her husband to me.
    “What have you been saying to Miss McFarland, Jim? She looks
positively miserable.”
    “I’ve simply been informing her of what is expected of her,” he
muttered defensively, Emily Olmstead looked sympathetic.
    “I suppose you neglected to tell her the good points,” she said on
a sigh. What good points? I wanted to ask. She answered without a question.
    “The children are wonderful. Except the Poole boys, of course.
You’ll have your hands full with them.”
    “Em, will you please….” James Olmstead was not going to succeed in
silencing his wife this time.
    “Reverend Hayes’s four sons are perfect little angels, and all
very quick-witted. So is Toby Carmichael, the poor waif. And Hudson Thomas’s
little girl, Margaret, is a spunky, sweet