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wasn’t pleased to find him here with her son.
    â€œI am.”
    Jessie heard a man shout, “Three strikes!” When Linc groaned with disgust along with the rest of the audience, she asked, “What happened?”
    Mr. Smith answered, “You’re new to the game? I thought Linc would have instructed you in baseball.”
    His voice was meant to charm; she pursed her lips. “One of my neighbor’s sons began bringing him to amateur games only at the end of last summer.”
    â€œI see.”
    Trying to ignore the man beside her, Jessie watched the game without further comment. Then she bent her head to read the face of her pendant watch. “Linc, I must be getting home.”
    â€œYes, Mother.”
    Jessie smiled to herself at her son’s complete concentration on the game, but remembering the stranger she added, “Come straight home, son.”
    â€œYes, Mother.”
    â€œSupper will be at six as usual.”
    â€œYes, mother.”
    â€œMake sure you come in quietly so Miss Wright won’t scold you.”
    â€œYes, Mother.”
    Even in the midst of her concern about this stranger, she swallowed her amusement at her son’s sanguine personality, so like his father. Nothing spoiled his enjoyment of life. She turned to face Mr. Smith. “I will bid you good day.” She emphasized her words, making “good day” mean “depart forever.”
    â€œGood day to you, Mrs. Wagstaff.” He bowed slightly and rested his hand on Linc’s shoulder. The boy looked up with a grin at him. Jessie walked away, fuming.
    Â 
    â€œHe was at the game!” Jessie let the kitchen door slam behind her.
    â€œThat man?” Standing by the stove, Susan turned to face her.
    â€œYes, that man .” Jessie whipped off her bonnet and jerked it down onto the hook on the wall.
    â€œHe with Lincoln?”
    â€œYes.” Impatiently Jessie tugged open her wrist buttons, folded up her sleeves, then reached for her apron. “I don’t like it. He shows up this morning sitting on our porch at a time that no man should be anywhere but in bed.”
    â€œI’m agreeing with you.” Susan turned the potato slices sizzling in the hot fat.
    â€œI mean who is he?”
    â€œAnd is he really a Mistah Smith ?”
    â€œExactly. And why did he pick our door?”
    â€œXactly.”
    Jessie set a large gray stoneware bowl onto the table by the window. She reached into it with both hands and lifted a thick clutch of dandelion greens out of the cleansing salt water and laid them on a fresh white towel beside the bowl. Picking up a paring knife, she began to slice off the tough ends of the greens. How could she have felt a flush of giddiness at the sight of Mr. Smith? That man had flustered her twice in one day.
    Susan’s words sliced through Jessie’s thoughts. “You keep using the knife that way and you gone to cut a finger into the greens.”
    Jessie sighed. She stilled her hands and slowly rolled her neck to loosen her muscles. “Seeing him there got my goat. I didn’t want to leave Linc with him, but I couldn’t bear to make Linc come home before the end of the game.”
    â€œHe been counting the days till that game.”
    Jessie consciously relaxed her shoulder muscles and began to make the salad. “I suppose Linc will be safe enough in the crowd and he’ll be home well before dark.”
    â€œGod will take care of him.”
    â€œI know.”
    Susan shook her finger as though scolding a child. “But if that man comes ’round here one more time—”
    â€œI will send him off with a bee in his ear!”
    Jessie and Susan chuckled. Then Jessie lost herself in the flurry of preparing supper. When it was time for Jessie to carry the kettle ofwarm water to fill the washbasins in the boarders’ rooms, she was surprised to find Mrs. Bolt waiting in the foyer.
    â€œI’ll take