(09-14-2025, 06:25 PM)Catherine Ennington Wrote: Her little project was coming along nicely. Ellie would never be in the same league as as any of the girls she had gone to school with, and she was a long way away from anything like a doctor’s or minister’s wife. But there was time. And there was progress. After the initial hiccups, singing lessons were going well. And Catherine did see improvement in the younger girl’s manners. She held teacups properly without instructions nowadays and she didn’t blurt things out as often. And despite these changes, she had remained just as innocent and sweet. The truth was, Catherine had rather come to enjoy Ellie’s company. Ellie might not be interesting – she certainly didn’t know anything that was interesting and she didn’t have connections to write home about – but she was honest, selfless and worked hard to get what she wanted, and these were qualities Catherine admired.
 
It was a gloomy Saturday morning when the carriage pulled up in front of the book shop where the girl worked and a footman helped young Miss Catherine Ennington down. The little bell above the door announced her unexpected visit. Catherine looked paler and wearier than usual, but she was smiling to herself.

The faint jangle of the small bell fastened to the shop door reached Ellie's ears in the back. Far from singing, practicing her lessons, or scrubbing something, she was making tea for herself and Miss Christine. 

"Just a minute!" Ellie shouted as boiling hot water cascaded from kettle into pot. four minutes and the tea would be ready. Today was a recipe for a busy day in the shop: gloomy enough to entice customers to indulge in the indoor pleasure of reading and cold enough to need tea within arms reach. She thought about the as-yet-unknown customer, perhaps it was a tourist? or a teacher from the school?  if it was that young man from the bank again asking if his boat book from down south had arrived; every day for the past week he'd been in - I hope he drowns! The mean spirited thought flashed in her mind as she pushed through the curtain.

It was not boat boy, rather a very familiar face

"Miss Catherine! Good morning."