[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger tries to “help” Camille . . .

Ginger balanced the tray against her hip as she rapped on the door. In the once empty area outside the room were now stacked some odds and ends of furniture. Cook had sent her with a pitcher of cider, several mugs, and a plate of flaky currant scones to Miz Bella’s classroom. There was plenty of work to be done, long dusty, thirsty work. Camille and Miz Bella would have need of a little sustenance.

She thought she heard a muffled voice, or at least some sort of sound, through the door. Not wanting to wait any longer, she took it for a ‘Come in!’ and opened the door. Her mouth dropped open in an ‘O’ of surprise. Cook had made her believe this room was a shambles. But here was Camille with everything clean looking and in order. Save for the books, that is. Camille was sitting down a look of frustration on her face. There were piles of books on the floor, and a few arranged on one shelf . . . a very few.

‘My stars, Miss!’ Ginger exclaimed. ‘Look what you’ve done with this place!’ She put the tray down on one of the nearer tables, and bent over to pick up one of the books. ‘Oh, look at this! I think I’ve seen just this very coney in one of my hedgerows. And this bird – one just like this nests in one of the apple trees near my sister’s burrow.’ Ginger put the book back down and picked up one of the thick ones. She frowned as she turned through several pages of printing, then her face brightened at one of the pictures. ‘It will take me forever,’ she muttered, ‘to be able to read what this is all about.’ She leafed through a few more pages. ‘Just look at all these letters! Stare at ‘em long enough and they pull tricks on your eyes it seems.’

Ginger poured a cup of cider for Camille and handed it to her. ‘I’ve got a little time. Want some help getting these books on the shelves?’ She bent down and started separating the piles into other smaller piles. ‘Don’t know how you were doing it, but how about putting all the picture books together and arrange them by height. The others we could separate into fat and thin and arrange them by height.’ Ginger looked around at the shelves. ‘They’d be nice and neat that way, like the rest of the room.’