Samantha reached over to pick up a ball of white yarn from the table. She tossed it into the air and caught it in one hand. She challenged herself to toss it higher and higher into the air, catching it every time with one hand or the other. Emboldened by her success, she threw the ball as high as she could. The yarn struck a rafter, changed direction, hit Prudence in the head, bounced to the floor, and then rolled across the cottage to come to rest between a stack of firewood and the hearth.
"What are you doing? Are you trying to get us in trouble?"
"I was tossing a ball. What's so bad about that?"
"You were playing a game when you were supposed to be watching me. Miss Brigham will expect you to do this soon. You have to pay attention," Prudence said, her voice getting higher until it bordered on panic.
"All right, I'm sorry. But watching you sew isn't fun."
"It's not supposed to be fun. Everyone's counting on us. You remember what Miss Brigham said about Wendell and the firewood? One person shirking their chores affects everyone."
"I'll watch you like a hawk from now on. I promise." Samantha dashed across the cottage to retrieve the yarn. In her haste, she didn't see the stool she'd stood on earlier and went flying across the room. She skidded across the floor, scraping her bare arms on the rough wooden planks and rolling against the wall like the yarn.
Prudence rushed to her side, but Samantha refused to allow her to examine the red streaks on the backsides of her arms. Samantha moved each limb, wincing with pain, but she held back any tears. "Are you all right?" Prudence asked.
"I'll be fine. It's nothing. Really."
"Samantha, don't lie. You know what the reverend says about telling even little lies."
"All right, my arms hurt like someone lit them on fire. Are you happy now?"
"No." Prudence took Samantha's arms, studying the scrapes. "You've got some splinters. I'll find a pin to get them out."
Samantha examined the tiny shards of wood sticking out of each scrape and bit down on her lip to keep from crying. Prudence returned and held up a pin six inches long. "Hold still," she cautioned. "I don't want to hurt you."
"More so, you mean." Samantha held her arms straight out and then turned her head away as Prudence set to work. Each time Prudence flicked out a splinter, a lightning bolt of pain shot through Samantha.
She tried to focus her attention on the hearth, counting the number of stones along the side. Then she noticed one of the stones near the back appeared loose with the hint of something yellow sticking out. "It looks like something is hidden over there," she said, motioning with her head.