Elizabeth was both relieved and disappointed: relieved to see people carrying on with normal lives such as she had known in England, and disappointed that everything was so familiar. The village was, if anything, shabby, and the buildings, while solid, were plain. The trading post was a log building like the rest but with a long, deep porch, empty now, and tiny glass windows on either side of the door. There was nothing picturesque about Paradise. It was hewn too rawly from the forest, it sat too awkwardly on the shores of the lake.

What a terrible prig you are, she sniffed at herself. You'll have to do better than that, my girl, if you intend to teach school here.

Watching Galileo tie the team to the hitching post, Elizabeth realized with a start that the people in this place would have children, and that she must convince them to send those children to her school. And more, there was no way to be introduced to them, except to do it herself. She had never in her life taken up a conversation with a person to whom she had not been properly and formally introduced, with the exception of servants and shop clerks. Almost paralyzed with worry, she watched as Galileo solved her problem by stepping into the room behind her and calling out: "Good morning. This here is Miss Elizabeth Middleton, the judge's girl."

Elizabeth tried hard to keep up with the hands that were thrust at her, the questions and good wishes. Confronted with the friendly curiosity of a roomful of people, Elizabeth was ashamed of herself for her less—than—generous thoughts about the village.

A woman of substantial height and breadth pushed easily through the small crowd to grasp Elizabeth by both shoulders and peer into her face. Elizabeth tried not to pull away from this unusual form of greeting, and focused instead on a pair of curious blue eyes on either side of a nose so small and dainty that it seemed it had somehow wandered onto the wrong face.

"Well, aren't we glad to see you!" she said for the fourth or fifth time, shaking Elizabeth a bit. "Aren't we all!"

Then she stood back and inclined her head hard to the right."You'll have caught not a single name in all this commotion. I'm Anna Hauptmann. This was my husband's trading post until he took the putrid sore throat and died. Lost my three oldest, too. That was four year ago and I been running things ever since. Do some farming, as we all do here. D'you like cheese? You'll want to try mine, it's worth the trouble, if I do say so myself who shouldn't. My folks come over from the Palatinate back during King George's war. That's my father over there. Däta!" She shouted so loudly at an old man asleep in front of the hearth that Elizabeth jumped.

"Däta, pass auf. No, don't you bother yourself about niceties, Miz Middleton, he's a solid sleeper, is Pa. Däta!"

This time the whole room jumped, but the bony shoulders of the old man hunched over his clay pipe continued their gentle rise and fall without a tremor.

"Miz Hauptmann—" Galileo called softly, and just as quickly as she had claimed Elizabeth's attention, Anna turned away and fought her way behind the counter between barrels and boxes. With a little fold of concentration on her forehead she began to gather things together in response to Galileo's polite and low—voiced requests.

There was a lot to look at: the ceilings were hung with hardware of every kind from stirrups to a plow, barrels and boxes piled everywhere. On one wall a profusion of hand—painted signs crowded together, and Elizabeth looked them over with great wonder and amusement. Trust in the LORD your GOD, read a prominent one, surpassed in size only by wonder Full is the MERCY of the Savior, surrounded by more earthly sentiments: No Papper Notes but Pigs Took in Trade; 1 lb. = $3 & 50 NY; Good Strong Vinegar; No Cofee Til Spring; Turlington's Balsam of Life and Daffy's Elixer in Stock Permanent. And a very large one done in severest black letters: NO spitting and that means YOU! In English, Dutch, German, and French. Elizabeth marveled at the translation of both the meaning and the sentiment.

In the time it took her to read through the placards, Elizabeth felt the room fall silent around her. She knew that they were looking at her, and so she straightened her shoulders and turned to meet them. The group of men sat around the hearth on makeshift stools, and in their center two young children huddled by the fire, one with a corncob doll, the other with a penknife and piece of wood. Anna was the only other woman; the others were all men of various ages, clearly farmers here to share news and the heat of the hearth on a snowy winter morning. She introduced herself to each of the adults, making a conscious effort to mark their names and faces: Henry Smythe, who had a tic; Isaac Cameron, who, while young, was losing his hair and who had a mouthful of poor teeth; Jed McGarrity, so tall he stooped and had the largest hands Elizabeth had ever seen on any human being; and Charlie LeBlanc, younger than the rest, who was missing both his upper front teeth and whistled when he talked. He avoided her gaze, blushing furiously as he shook her hand. Only Moses Southern seemed to give her his hand reluctantly, scowling at a point on the ceiling as he muttered his name. He was about sixty years old, his face crackled and roughened to the consistency of bark. The cold weather had turned his already substantial nose into a great red radish, and when she smiled at him he flushed a deeper shade.

Elizabeth turned to the children.

"And who have we here?"

"My two youngest!" said Anna."Henrietta and Ephraim, they might tell you if they could find their tongues. Children! Come forward. A curtsy, please, Miss Henrietta. Ephraim, have you forgot your bow?"