Imogene settled back against the seat and tucked the lap robe snug around her waist.

            Calliope showed quaint and pretty in the night. The grime of coal dust and poverty was covered in darkness, and lamplight was warm in the windows. They drove toward the center of town. To the right stood the mansions of the mine owners: great imperious homes in the Victorian style, partially hidden by a thick screen of trees. The big homes gave way to smaller ones and then to the few shops that served the town. At the very end of the main street were two identical buildings, squat and dark, like sister boxcars stranded too far from the tracks.

            Joseph pointed with his whip handle. “That’s the school and the schoolmaster’s house.” He looked at Imogene’s dismayed countenance. “Teachers here have been of a rougher cut before now. We get subscription fellows mostly, they stay about a year or so. This last one quit blacksmithing and was going to do teaching full time. Looked like he’d be staying a while, so we got together a school board and put him on salary, but he cut himself chopping wood and died of blood poisoning before he could collect his first pay.”

            They reached the twin buildings and, clucking to steady the horse, Mr. Cogswell hauled back on the reins. He climbed down and unstrapped Imogene’s suitcases from the shallow baggage shelf on the back of the shay. “We’ll get the rest of your things brought over from the station in the morning. They came in a week ago Sunday.” As he handed her down from the carriage, Imogene looked at the blank, rickety visage of the schoolmaster’s house, and her mouth thinned to a frown.

            She followed him silently. There was no winter garden or any other vestige of foliage in front of the house. The packed earth sloped down in an unbroken line until it blended into the street. Foot traffic had worn a shallow trough from the front door to the gutter. On the right, the water pump stood in an eroded basin. Joseph opened the door and hoisted the suitcase over the raised sill.

            “Just be a moment, miss. I’ll get some light for you.” After some minutes of rustling, the single flame of Mr. Cogswell’s match was joined by the steadier light of a candle. Imogene lifted her skirts and stepped over the sill. “Wood floor—milled planks. All the walls are finished wood,” Joseph said, and smiled reassuringly. He lit a lamp and held it high so she could see better.

            The room boasted two windows, one on either side of the front door. In the opposite wall, at the other end of the rectangle, a low archway indicated a kitchen or pantry. A stone fireplace was set square in the middle of one long wall, and a doorway in the other. Imogene walked past him, holding her skirts off the unswept floor, and looked into the side room. She had to duck to see; the door was scarcely five feet high.

            “That’ll be the bedroom,” Joseph said.

            It was furnished with a narrow cot and a ladder-back chair with several of the rungs missing. Two rows of pegs on one side of the single window served as the closet. Imogene pulled back the edge of the mattress, and three flat, round insects scuttled for cover. She wiped her fingers on her handkerchief. “A kitchen?” she asked. He had followed her and she nearly bowled him over when she turned. Joseph led the way through an opening in the middle of the back wall. The kitchen ceiling was smoke-blackened and the floor scattered with litter. A square wooden table leaned against the wall. Imogene stayed in the doorless arch.

            “Door’s bigger,” Mr. Cogswell said hopefully. “You don’t have to stoop.” Imogene cocked an eyebrow at him and he fell silent. Nervously he set the lamp down on the edge of the table, but it threatened to tip, so he moved it to the center. The mate to the broken chair in the bedroom leaned drunkenly against the wall, and one of the cupboard doors hung off its hinges. A puff of wind rattled the piece of cardboard the previous tenant had put in the window in lieu of glass. Joseph Cogswell eyed the broken glass and the mouse droppings in the sink and shifted uncomfortably under the tall woman’s gaze. “It’s a bit rough, as I said.”