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good meal.
    Ma swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “What’s that I smell? Did you fall in the pig sty?”
    “Just as bad. I fell in a mud puddle in town. Ruined my pants. Hope you can get them cleaned up before Sunday.”
    She put the apples aside and began measuring out the flour and lard. He wondered if Adela could cook. Her station in life was serving the high class, and maybe she’d be tired of that and wouldn’t even want to cook, but he hoped she’d take a hankering for it. He liked good food. Maybe Ma could teach her.
    It occurred to him Adela didn’t have anything to occupy her during her visit. He reckoned she liked to visit folks, but she didn’t know anyone here—yet. “When do you guess we can hold the shucking and taffy pull?”
    “Too early yet and too hot. Don’t we usually have it after the hog killing, near Thanksgiving, if I recollect.”
    That would be too late. Adela needed to meet folks…but there was church. “Don’t guess there’s any reason we couldn’t have the shucking and taffy pull early this year, though.”
    Ma started rolling out the pie crust. “Don’t guess so. We can ask Hilda Jane what she thinks. She’s joining us for supper.”
    A lump formed in his throat and fell clear to his stomach. “Hilda Jane’s coming for supper tonight? You didn’t tell me that. I saw her in town, and she didn’t mention it.”
    “I’m telling you now. She’s coming to pick up the extra milk tonight anyway.” Since the Lynstrums’ cow went dry, they’d been getting their milk from Byron. He had two milk cows and they produced enough to spare.
    Ma sifted sugar over the apples. “I thought it’d be a good time to introduce her to our houseguest. What was her name? You didn’t tell me until last week, and I forget.”
    “Adela Mason. Why did you invite Hilda Jane?” Yes, he wanted Adela to meet some people, but Hilda Jane wasn’t one of them. “Just Hilda Jane? Her pa’s not coming?”
    “No, he’s working late with the corn crop. Hilda Jane’s going to take him a basket.” Ma sprinkled in cinnamon and laid the top crust on the pie. “You better get to your chores too, hadn’t you?”
    He did. Mucking out the stalls, feeding the horses, milking the cows. Lem was still in the fields and would be given out when he came in. Besides Byron still had to bathe and dress in clean clothes before supper. But no need to do that until after chores.

Chapter 7
    Adela couldn’t find a closet or wardrobe, but she hung several dresses on the pegs driven into the wall. Her clothes were too fancy for the country. She didn’t miss the difference in her attire and the way women dressed out here.
    There was little she could do about it. When she’d join the Annex group, Lady Gaylenshire, their sponsor, had insisted the ladies dress professionally. That meant rich fabrics in the styles featured in Harper’s Bazaar . Adela wondered if she might buy some calico and sew herself a couple of everyday dresses. What she wouldn’t give for Ramee’s help. Ramee designed and sewed all their dresses. She had dreams of selling her designs one day.
    Adela had helped Ramee and knew she could manage to sew a simple frock for herself. It occurred to her Byron would be busy much of the day, and it would be up to her to occupy herself. She intended to learn how to cook and do the chores expected of a farm woman.
    After she’d finished her unpacking, she left her room and walked back into the parlor. The smell of baking drew her through the closed door of what she suspected must be the kitchen.
    Mrs. Calhoun was alone, chopping carrots and onions. She glanced up at the soft thud of the closing door. “You find everything you needed, Miss Mason?”
    “Oh, yes ma’am, but could you call me Adela? I’d much prefer it.”
    “All right.” She didn’t give Adela any preferences for her name, so Mrs. Calhoun it would be.
    “Can I help you with anything?”
    “No, I’ve about got everything