"No, Pa," Esme protested. "He's not like that at all. He's a gentleman and all, that's for sure. But he's got good sense. You know what he's doing in them ponds he built behind the store? He's raising fish. Raising 'em, just like they’s chickens or something. He's got fish like setting hens and others like roosters, and a whole pond full of little brooder chicks no bigger than a finger."
Yohan watched his daughter's eyes as she talked. The spark of curiosity and intellect burned so brightly there.
"Trout in the river are getting overfished," Esme explained, "and the temperature of the water ain't always right for 'em. Cleav is growing more to make sure they don't give out completely."
"Cleav, is it?" Her father raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Rhy, that is." Esme hurriedly corrected herself.
Pa gave her a long, hard look. "You hankering after this Cleavis Rhy, you think?"
Esme felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Yes, Pa," she admitted in a quiet whisper.
"Hallelujah!" Adelaide shouted. Both she and Agrippa came running over to hug their little sister.
Accepting her sisters' affection, Esme still looked back to her father, hoping for approval, help, or hope. Pa only smiled and raised his fiddle to his chin and began plucking out a lively tune.
"She gets the dress," Agrippa said with certainty.
Adelaide nodded with agreement.
"What dress?" Esme asked.
"The prettiest dress you've ever seen in your life," Adelaide told her.
"It was the best thing in the whole basket," Agrippa said.
Pulling out the snowy bundle of white lawn, Agrippa shook the gown out before her. The light summer material was sewn in neat pleats across the bodice and the long skirt billowed to the floor.
"Try it on, Esme," Adelaide insisted. "Try it on right now!"
With more force than help the sisters had quickly dispensed with Esme's worn old serge, and she stood momentarily in the middle of the room, shivering in her threadbare shimmy.
Up and over her head the beautiful gown of store-bought lawn was draped over Esme. Immediately she was uncomfortable.
"What's wrong with this?" she asked her sisters in unpleasant surprise.
Agrippa surveyed her critically.
"Well, it doesn't fit," she told her simply.
The dress was several inches too short, that was clear. But there were other more serious problems.
"It's too tight in the waist," Adelaide said.
"I'm aware of that," Esme replied with a self-deprecating grin. "I can hardly breathe."
"I think we can take it out," Agrippa told her, grasping the rather voluminous folds of material that hung down past the sash.
"Look at all this wasted fabric in the bodice!" she exclaimed to Esme. "With all this a man couldn't tell if you have bosoms or you're hiding a polecat!"
Adelaide laughed along with her sister. "The gal who gave this away must have weaned the triplets."
"It looks awful," Esme stated fatalistically.
"But it's going to look wonderful," Agrippa promised her. “All this extra material means we'll be able to let out the waist and have plenty left to re-trim the hemline."
"You're right. I can make it fit me." Esme's voice was hopeful.
