My First Day at Skipwith, Virginia (Cont.)
Screen 6 of 7Before I had resolved any of these problems, I was again at the Brames' mailbox, and I made up my mind that I would not think about any of them again until the next day. My reception at the Brame home was warm and very encouraging--even better than I had hoped for. I was met at the door this time by Margaret Brame, the granddaughter who just one year earlier had graduated from Farmington State Teachers College, and for the year before I arrived had taught the primary grades at Oaks School. She was not one of the teachers who had been run off, but as she told me later she had personally witnessed their ridiculous departures.
She cordially invited me to come inside and meet her father, Mr. Drury Brame. Seated in the parlor apparently awaiting my arrival before returning to his work in the field, he grunted a hello from under the brim of an old but obviously comfortable straw hat slightly tilted to the front. All the while his piercing brown eyes were scrutinizing me from head to foot, but not in a hostile way. Remembering what his wife had said about her husband not "cottoning" to strangers, it seemed obvious that he was just looking me over in a way I did not mind at all, perhaps because I could detect a subtle twinkle in his eye.
Neither Margaret nor her father made me feel uncomfortable, even though the initial conversation was not without some awkwardness. She talked about her schooling and asked about mine. He interrupted once to ask if I liked girls. When I said yes he reminded me there would not be much social life in and around Skipwith. Margaret quickly changed the subject, speaking briefly of her year of teaching at Oaks, but with some reluctance, because she knew I had already visited the school. Mr. Brame wanted to be sure I knew about the inconveniences I would encounter--both there at the house if I boarded with them and at school.
"We don't have running water here," he began. "That means no shower or bath tub. We just wash ourselves all over once a week from a bowl and pitcher." He continued, "and of course our toilets are outside. Have you ever used an outdoor toilet in the winter time?" He smiled as he asked this question looking over the small gold rims of his glasses. Before I could answer that I had not, he added with pursed lips and a slow shake of his head, "It gets pretty cold around here in December, January and February. You'll see what I mean."
"I'm sure it must," I replied, "but I believe I can get used to it."
As if to discourage me even more, or maybe just to test me, he then frowned and added, "Do you. know it's almost two miles from here to the school and that you and Margaret will have to walk there and back every day?" This surprised me somewhat because I did not realize I had walked that far, but his comment about the distance did not discourage me. I liked to walk and as I figured it I could walk one way in about twenty-five minutes. When I told him this, he lifted his eyebrows in subtle approval and continued in a somewhat more solicitous tone, "Of course, when it's raining hard and when heavy snow is on the ground, I can take both of you in my wagon--or in "ole Betsy" when I can get her started." As he referred to "ole Betsy," he looked through the side window with a slight smile at a small Model A Ford car parked under a nearby tree. At least we wouldn't have to crank it I thought as I had done so many times before with an old Model T Ford which my brother and I had owned for about a year before the great stock market crash in 1929.
I was now determined that nothing Mr. Brame could say would dissuade me. I had made up my mind to stay there if they would let me. I felt that he sensed this and seemed to be relieved I was not being put off or upset by his negative comments. I was even beginning to like him, and when a little later he pushed his straw hat back on his forehead with a smile and relaxed in his chair, I had the feeling he was "cottoning up" to this young stranger from Kentucky. Perhaps he was already anticipating with some pleasure having another male in the household. Without me there, he would be one man against four women--his mother, his wife, his daughter, and a distant niece. My inkling about this turned out to be true, and during the long winter ahead he and I were to hunt together, talk politics and good naturedly kid the women in that household.
"How much can you pay?" he abruptly asked.
"Well, I don't know what a fair price is," I said in answer. "I've never taken board and room with other people. If I stayed here, would I have a room to myself?" He did not respond to this question. Instead, he changed the subject, somewhat to the embarrassment of Margaret who was becoming uneasy with such frank talk about finances.
"How much will you make teaching school?" he blurted out before realizing he was perhaps asking more than he should. "Maybe you don't want to tell me that," he added as he took off his hat and glanced out the window.
"Oh yes, I'll tell you," I said without any hesitation. "It's no secret. I'll make either $68.00 or $71.00 each month, depending upon how many teaching days there are. This figure must have startled Margaret, for she quickly turned in her chair and stared at me for an instant in disbelief.
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