The woman remained standing in the door. Presently the little girl spoke.
“Mother,” she said, “the Teacher has no clothes, he didn't even have a little bundle.”
The woman came back to the table. She stood a moment with her hand resting on her hip.
“That's so,” she said. “I reckon he didn't bring any. Carryin' things gits powerful tiresome, when you come a long ways.”
Then the dominant quality in the woman--the instinct to find a resource for every condition that arose, moved her. She went over to the fireplace, above which, on the high mantel shelf sat an ancient clock. She stood on her tiptoes, opened the clock door, and took out a little brass key, then she crossed to the foot of the bed, stooped and dragged a little old horsehide trunk out into the floor. She fitted the key into the lock, but it was rusted and would not turn. The trunk had not been opened for many years. She came back to the table and rubbed the key with melted tallow from the candle.
“There are some fine shirts in that trunk that we could give him,” she said. “Your grandma give them to your pap at our infair. She made them herself. But he never wore them. He said, they was too fine to skuff out. An' they've laid there for ten years. They're a heap too big for the Teacher. Your pap was twice as big as he is. But I can cut off the sleeves and take up the neckband, so he can wear them. They're good linen. Your grandma was mighty handy.”
The little girl had removed the dishes from the table, while the woman was opening the trunk. She now came and held the horsehide lid, while her mother searched for the articles. Finally the woman found the shirts. She found also, at the bottom of the trunk, a folded piece of linen, as though that one making the shirts had used only a portion of her material.
“Well, upon my word,” she said, “if here ain't a big piece that your grandma didn't make up.”
She brought the shirts over to the table where the candle stood. She regarded them with surprise and admiration.
“Bless my life, they're nice,” she said, “not a yaller spot on them.”
A moment she stood in rapt appreciation of the beautiful, snowy linen. Then she caught up one of the shirts and spread the neckband with her fingers.