A Ribbon of Shining Steel Page 5

  Anne still won’t speak to me. Is it because of the Diary or is she still holding a grudge from before? I tried to tell her that my Diary is full of nice things about her. But she walked away without listening. Clara told me I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. What is that supposed to mean? Great Godfrey!

  Thanks to Mama’s plum-less pudding, our house still smells like Christmas. My one happy thought of the day.

  Tuesday, November 21

  Botany today. I drew a sketch of Shepherd’s Purse after we learned all the parts, and Teacher said it was splendid. This is what it looks like.

  This is a sketch of a trembling aspen tree. We learned about it in Botany last week. I love the shape of the leaves. It should be called a trembling heart tree.

  Mama says that a facility in Sketching is a desirable Achievement, especially on journeys, because that way you can record the scenery and share it with others.

  Here is a buttercup. I think it looks splendid.

  Wednesday, November 22

  Here is a sketch of Mr. Onderdonk’s Locomotive No. 2. Its name is Emory but everyone calls it Curly.

  Not so splendid. I need to practise locomotives or stick to Botany. I think I will stick to words, at least in my Diary. And perhaps I should be more careful about what I say. But then, what is the use of having a Diary? Where else can I express Private Thoughts and Feelings?

  Today in Penmanship we wrote:

  Trials and troubles turn with time and tide.

  I think that is another way of saying that things will get better, but it is not true. Here is my version:

  Trials and troubles never turn or terminate.

  Thursday, November 23

  Thank goodness Papa will be home tomorrow. Then I know he’ll be safe for a little while. I never had nightmares in Ottawa. Mama says that is because the Pacific Section of the railway is the most difficult and the most dangerous.

  After school today I ironed shirts, dresses, linens and handkerchiefs and for once I did not scorch One Single Item. Mama was pleased.

  Friday, November 24

  Papa is home, safe and sound, with good news. The Skuzzy Creek Bridge is finished! But now he has to start on the Salmon River Bridge, 35 miles above Yale. He had some bad news, too — more accidents. This time two Chinese were hurt in a rock slide.

  Mama says the Accident Hospital is bursting at the seams, but only with Whites. The Chinese are not allowed in, even though they’re working for the railway, too.

  Papa said that when white workers are injured, the Hospital will be of little use if the injured men cannot get there in time. He was probably thinking of the man who died a while ago. A blast went off and there was falling rock and his leg was cut off. He died because they could not get him to the Hospital soon enough.

  I told Papa about my nightmares. He said I shouldn’t worry because he thinks about me all the time and that makes him extra careful. But I am to pray for his safety nonetheless.

  He says that most of the accidents happen when there is blasting. So I think they should have a doctor close by. And I think the doctors should stay put, not go off enjoying themselves or treating patients in town. Naturally no one asks for my opinion.

  That must be the best part about being a reporter. You can state your opinions — once you have developed Thick Skin — whether anyone wants to hear them or not. There is bound to be one person in the world who would agree with you. As for the rest, you could try to change their minds.

  I think I will be a reporter after all.

  Saturday, November 25

  Rain and mud. I feel very glum. Mama tells me I am experiencing nothing more serious than growing pains, and my glumness will not last forever. Easy for her to say, all grown up without a care in the world.

  She suggested I go for an outing with Anne. I didn’t tell her that Anne refuses to talk to me.

  Oh, misery.

  Later

  Hurray! The Express coach has just arrived with mail and I got a letter from Rachel. Her mother is taking her to Victoria in January and they are stopping in Yale for 2 days, Jan. 3 to 5. But before that, I am invited to Aspen Hill Farm from December 27 to 29 “so we can give the horses a good canter” before she goes away.

  I am so happy. Mama says she could light a candle with the glow on my face.

  Sunday, November 26

  Rain. Mud. Church.

  I desperately want to ask Mama when they’re sending me to Angela College. In the New Year, so I can go with Rachel? Or next fall? I am afraid to bring up the subject because then she will know I’ve been listening at doors. I would much rather keep that a Secret.

  Papa went back to camp directly after Church. Why couldn’t he run a newspaper like Mr. Hagan? Or be a butcher like Rusty’s father? Then he could stay at home and be here every single night, safe with us.

  Wednesday, November 29

  School the same.

  Chores the same.

  Weather the same. Rain and Mud.

  But today I marked Papa’s finished bridge on Mr. Hagan’s map!

  Thursday, November 30

  In Penmanship today we had another line that could be about the Fraser:

  Rushing rapids roar round rising rivers.

  It could be part of a poem, it is that stirring. Here’s my own:

  Roaring railways rush round rising rapids.

  Or: Rapid railways roar round rushing rivers.

  Sometimes I wonder if Teacher chooses our Penmanship lines with Yale in mind. I suppose not, because otherwise we would be penmanshipping nothing but trains and railways and we have not had a single one of those.

  Is “penmanshipping” a word? It should be.

  December 1882

  Monday, December 4

  Melissa has taken a shine to me and follows me about like a puppy. I do not mind. I secretly pretend she is my little sister. At least I have someone to talk to, since Anne is still giving me the cold shoulder. How anyone can hold a grudge for so long is beyond my understanding.

  At lunch I gave Melissa a doll I made from a railway spike. I glued on a face, braided some yarn for hair and found a scrap of green cotton for a dress. Melissa was thrilled and named the doll Katie.

  I was pleased as punch — until Toby Big Ears said it was a perfect name since the doll looked just like me.

  Fury! Just because the doll is long and skinny and has brown hair and a green cotton dress. I should have used blue yarn and a scrap of flannel from Toby’s nightshirt.

  I was about to cuff him when Melissa said, “I know she looks like Katie and that’s why I love her the best of all my dolls.”

  It is a relief to know that someone likes me.

  Wednesday, December 6

  Penmanship today:

  By being busy boys become better.

  HA!

  Thursday, December 7

  Thanks to Melissa, I now know why Anne has been avoiding me. Here is what happened.

  This afternoon, Teacher told us a panther had been spotted on the Wagon Road between town and the Powder Works Factory and everyone going home that way should keep together and make a lot of noise. Melissa was scared — she lives right next door to the Powder Works — and asked me to walk her home. So I did.

  On the way she asked me if I gave her the spike doll because yesterday was her birthday. I was surprised — I didn’t know it was her birthday. She told me she is having a party on Saturday but only Primary girls are invited. She wanted to invite me anyway, but Anne’s sister, Charlotte, told her I didn’t like birthday parties. And the reason she thought that is because I didn’t go to Anne’s. Even tho’ I was Anne’s Best Friend.

  Well, I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach. I have been re-reading my Diary and the words don’t lie — they show me I am a thoughtless beast. I didn’t have to go to Rachel’s the day of Anne’s party, I could have waited for another time. I certainly could have shown some Regret — instead of giving Anne the impression that Rachel would be much m
ore fun. And before I left for Spuzzum, did I give Anne a present? A birthday card? Did I wish her a happy birthday? Did I ask her one single thing about her party when I came back? No, no, no, no.

  I do not deserve to have a friend.

  Friday, December 8

  Thank goodness, Anne is talking to me again.

  I got up very early this morning and made Anne a railway spike doll. Then I wrote a little card and pinned it to the doll’s dress. The note said:

  Dear Anne, I am deeply sorry for hurting your feelings. I hope you had a Happy Birthday. Can we still be friends? Yours truly, Kate.

  I worried all the way to school. What if I was wrong? What if Anne was still mad about the jade, and the birthday had nothing to do with it?

  My worries were for naught. Anne said she had been planning to write me a letter because she sorely missed having me for a friend.

  Tomorrow we are going to spend the day together.

  Saturday, December 9

  Anne and I took our spike dolls to Melissa’s and put on a puppet show for her party. There were eight little girls there, plus Melissa’s brothers, and everyone loved it. “Katie” and “Annie” — our puppets — talked in funny voices and made jokes and even got into a fight! Clang, clang, ring, ring — it sounded as though a railway gang was working inside the house.

  Then we changed our puppets’ names to boys’ names, like Toby and Rusty and Teacher — in dresses! with long plaits! — everyone laughed even harder.

  Now I have to stop writing because my wrist is sore. Railway spikes are heavy!

  Monday, December 11

  Went to the Sentinel after school and Mr. Hagan let me set the type for a headline. It is a very difficult task because every letter has to go in backwards. So b looks like d and d looks like b and so forth. I took the letters from the type case, one by one, and arranged them in a small metal tray called a stick. I also put in space bars between the words.

  The next step was moving my line of type to a larger metal tray called a galley. I had to be careful because if I dropped it, all the pieces of type would be mixed up. After that, I inked it. This is how the letters looked:

  Some letters look the same backwards and forwards, like o, i, l, v, w. They are my favourites.

  Mr. Hagan gave me a sheet of paper and had me print the headline to prove I had not made any mistakes. Then he let me bring home my galley proof. Here it is:

  It is a dull headline, but in a few days everyone will read it in the Sentinel, thanks to me.

  I wonder if Mr. Hagan has nightmares about the Sentinel being printed backwards. Everyone would have to read the news in a mirror!

  Wednesday, December 13

  Cleaned the range after supper. Grim, hateful and least favourite chore. Mix the black lead with a drop of turpentine, apply it to the iron surfaces with a soft brush, rub vigorously with a stiff brush and give a final polish with a clean cloth. And Mama is so particular. Mercy McGinnis! You could use the surface as a mirror, it is already that shiny. You could use it to read a backwards Sentinel! And stay warm at the same time.

  Saturday, December 16

  Dark days of winter. Even when it is sunny we are in shadow most of the time, because of the high mountains. The days are getting shorter but they sometimes feel very long.

  Monday, December 18

  I like to imagine I’m as brave as a Knight but I have no more courage than a thistle. I’m afraid of doctors and dentists and bears and panthers and being adrift on the Fraser or on the Pacific Ocean. And I’m afraid of Fire, like the terrible one we had in August ’81, even worse than the one in 1880.

  My biggest fear at the moment is the Public Examination. An Examiner comes to school and asks questions to see how much we know. The questions can be about Reading, Spelling, Grammar, History, Geography, Arithmetic, Latin — anything that we study in school — and when our name is called we have to stand up and answer — in front of everyone, for the whole entire town is invited. Then the Examiner writes a report and Mr. Hagan prints it in the Sentinel for all the world to see.

  The very thought of the Examination makes my knees shake, my heart pound and my stomach churn. Last year I could not speak without a stammer and I only answered half the questions correctly. Not because I did not know the answers, but because the Examiner frightened me witless. I would rather go to the dentist than go through that again. Alas, I have no choice. And it is only 4 days away.

  Friday, December 22

  The Examination was a torture — but it is over and I am still alive.

  Great Godfrey, the ordeal had me trembling so hard I could scarcely breathe, let alone speak, and the Examiner kept saying, “Speak up, Miss,” which made me tremble even more. I managed to spell proficiency correctly, and I conjugated a Latin verb, and named all the countries in the British Empire. I gave the correct definitions of several words, like excruciating (agonizing) and petulant (peevish) but I was hopeless at Mental Arithmetic, even though I’ve been practising. And the Kings that ruled during the Hundred Years War flew completely out of my mind.

  Why couldn’t the Examiner ask me about grasshopper trestles? Or how long it took the railway to blast the first four tunnels out of Yale? (18 months! No wonder our heads ached.)

  Toby did poorly at Reading. But in Mental Arithmetic he did better than any of the seniors, including Andrew.

  Andrew had to recite the first ten stanzas of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” and only stumbled on three lines.

  I half hoped the Examiner would ask me to recite some lines. I would have launched into “The Song of the Locomotive” — Beware! Beware! for I come in my might! With a scream, and a scowl of scorn, etc. — but as I was so nervous, I’m sure I would not have done the poem justice.

  The Examiner complimented us on our singing, especially when we sang “God Save the Queen.” He also told us we were an intelligent class, exceedingly neat in appearance, and Attentive and Orderly throughout the day. Teacher’s right eyebrow shot up with his smile.

  Mama says she is proud of me and my brothers, and Papa will be, too.

  Saturday, December 23

  Bright blue sky — until the sun dipped below the mountains. But it was still a glorious day because our whole family went off to find a Christmas tree! Had a grand time tramping through the woods and up to our favourite spot in the mountains. Built a fire and ate our lunch and cut down a splendid Fir.

  Sunday, December 24

  Soft snow on the ground — perfect for Christmas.

  Our tree looks beautiful. It is lit with Chinese lanterns that Mama got from Kwong Lee’s store, and hundreds of candles. It also has tiny globes wrapped with sparkling tinsel.

  Monday, December 25

  Christmas Day, 1882

  As soon as we got up we opened our stockings and presents. Mama loved the arrangement of dried flowers I made for her. She couldn’t believe I picked the flowers in September and kept it a secret all this time.

  We went to Church for Christmas service, then came home for Christmas dinner. I got the horseshoe in my plum pudding! So I will have good luck in the coming year. Papa got the thimble and we all laughed — as if he could ever be an Old Maid.

  Social calls all afternoon and evening and we played my favourite game, Snapdragon! First you put raisins and currants in a bowl and pour brandy over top so they soak. Then you put the bowl in the centre of the table, put out the lights, and set the brandy on fire. Everyone takes turns trying to snatch a piece of flaming fruit, and then they pop it into their mouth. Anne said it looked dangerous and she did not want to play, but she changed her mind when Andrew told her that the flames from burning brandy are not very hot.

  We played for a long time and it was great fun. We sang the song, too. This is my favorite verse:

  With his blue and lapping tongue

  Many of you will be stung,

  Snip! Snap! Dragon!

  Now it is late and everyone has gone home. My tooth hurts something fierce because whe
n I was eating the plum pudding I accidentally bit down hard on the horseshoe. Every Christmas Mama warns us to be careful. Oh, the PAIN! The horseshoe was meant to bring good luck.

  Tuesday, December 26

  Boxing Day

  I am in a foul temper. My toothache kept me awake all night long and when I managed to catch a few winks, I dreamed about dentists. Which was enough to wake me up in even greater pain.

  The very thought of being stuck in the dentist’s chair makes me ill — trapped by a blood-stained spittoon on one side, a stand of torture instruments on the other, and the dentist looming over me in his rumpled white coat. I HATE dentists! Not only do they put you through the most excruciating Torture, they lie about it. I went twice to the dentist in Ottawa, and both times he told me it would not hurt, just a little pinch, and not even that much if I sat very brave and still. NOT TRUE! It hurt so frightfully I wanted to bite his thumb. But since my mouth was full of files and crowbars and pincers and chisels and goodness knows what else, crochet hooks and darning needles from the look of it — as well as his fingers and bloody bits of cotton — I could scarcely breathe, let alone bite. But I could kick! And kick I did, much to Mama’s shame and disgrace when the dentist told her about my behaviour.