Intruders at Rivermead Manor. Kathryn Reiss

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СКАЧАТЬ escaping slaves came through Cincinnati because it was right on the border.”

      Kit smiled. Before the Howards came to live at Kit’s house, Stirling’s mother had worried a lot about his health. She’d kept him indoors, and he’d spent a lot of time reading. The things he’d learned made him one of the smartest pupils in class.

      “Thank you, Stirling, that’s correct,” said Mrs. Newcomb. “Escaping slaves would come across the Ohio River and find shelter here for a night or two until they could move on. The people who opposed slavery were called abolitionists. And the whole secret enterprise of people moving along, stop by stop, to freedom in the North was called the Underground Railroad.”

      Kit listened intently. Could her own house have been part of the Underground Railroad? No—her house was too new.

      There must be a lot of people who didn’t know about the part Cincinnati had played in helping slaves escape to freedom, Kit thought. This topic might make a good newspaper article. The editor of the paper had said that when Kit wrote something good enough to print, he’d print it. Once she’d had a letter to the editor published, and a couple columns on the children’s page. She wanted her next story to be printed in the main section of the newspaper, the part with important news.

      Kit listened closely as Mrs. Newcomb told the students about Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, brought to life the misery of slavery. Harriet Beecher Stowe had come from a whole family of abolitionists. Slaves on the run had found shelter in her house. But hers was only one of several homes in Cincinnati that had been stations on the Underground Railroad. Some homes were even rumored to have secret hiding places. “Besides the Stowe house,” said Mrs. Newcomb, “there were the Wilson house and Rivermead Manor, among others.”

      Kit caught her breath. Rivermead! That was Miss Mundis’s house! She could interview Miss Mundis for her newspaper article.

      Then Mrs. Newcomb read them a dramatic folk story about slaves using the stars to find their way north to freedom. Kit listened carefully in case the information might be useful for her article. She noticed that Ruthie was listening attentively, too.

      When the librarian finished, all the children applauded. Then Kit hurried over to speak to Jessamine.

      “Hi, Jess!”

      “Hello, Kit. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

      “I’m not so different—just taller. You’re a lot taller, too.” Kit and Jessamine looked at each other, and Kit suddenly felt shy. But Jessamine seemed pleased to see her.

      “Which school do you go to?” Kit asked.

      “I’m in a new school now.”

      “Is it near here?” Kit asked.

      Jessamine pointed down the street. “It’s that way, all the way past the railroad tracks.”

      “Oh!” Kit said. “I think if you turn and go up the hill instead of crossing the tracks, that’s where my Uncle Hendrick lives.”

      “Right…” said Jessamine slowly. “I know what neighborhood you mean.”

      “So where do you live now?” Kit asked.

      Jessamine busied herself with her jacket as if she hadn’t heard Kit. The teachers were lining their classes up, and Kit knew she had only a minute before they’d leave the library.

      “It’s nice to find you again,” Kit said. “Maybe sometime we could…” But they couldn’t really play in the cars anymore, or swing on the tire, and white children didn’t usually play with black children in their city. But…why shouldn’t we see each other sometime? thought Kit.

      “Where do you live?” she asked Jessamine again.

      “We’ve got a long walk back to school now,” Jessamine said abruptly, not meeting Kit’s eyes. “Good-bye.” She moved away.

      “Wait!” Kit called.

      Mr. Leiser motioned Kit into line. As they walked back to school, Kit told Ruthie how Jessamine had turned away. How Jessamine wouldn’t tell her where she lived.

      “She was always so nice,” Kit said sadly. “I thought she’d want to play together again.”

      “Well, isn’t it obvious?” asked Ruthie.

      Kit raised her eyebrows. “What?”

      “Well, your father lost his business. So her father lost his job, too.”

      Kit nodded slowly. “You’re right. We were able to keep our home by taking in boarders, but maybe Jessamine’s family lost their home.” Her heart felt heavy. Were the Porters living in a hobo shack down by the train tracks?

      Kit decided she would ask her parents if there was any way to help Jessamine’s family. If only there were more rooms in Kit’s house! But…would a colored family move into a white family’s boarding house?

      Kit didn’t think so. She remembered how Jessamine’s class had sat at the back of the semi-circle in the library, even though they had not been the last to arrive. There were no black children in Kit’s class, and there were no white children in Jessamine’s class.

      For a second, an image like a moving picture flickered in Kit’s mind—of two girls hanging together on a tire swing, flying through the air, shrieking with laughter. It seemed to Kit that it should be a simple thing to be friends with Jessamine, but she realized it was not.

      ...

      As they walked home after school, Kit, Ruthie, and Stirling discussed what sort of presentation to do for their class assignment. Kit suggested their group write a report about the local homes that were part of the Underground Railroad. They could start by talking to Miss Mundis! Maybe she had some historical records packed away.

      “There’s nothing I’d like better,” Kit said, “than reading an old diary left by an escaping slave. Wouldn’t that make an amazing primary source for my newspaper article? Mr. Gibbs at the newspaper always says that primary sources are better than gold to a reporter!”

      “Well, I don’t think most slaves could write,” said Stirling. “They weren’t allowed to learn.”

      Ruthie said she’d rather do a play of the folktale Mrs. Newcomb had told them.

      “But that’s not real,” Kit protested.

      “Well, it’s more interesting than writing an old report,” Ruthie responded. “If we put on a skit, we can have costumes and props and maybe even special light effects!”

      “Well, what if you play Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Kit plays a reporter interviewing you?” suggested Stirling as a compromise. “That’s factual, but you’d still get to wear old-time costumes.”

      “Good idea,” Kit said. “And you could play the photographer,” she told Stirling.

      Kit left Ruthie and Stirling discussing how to stage the skit and hurried along on her way to Rivermead Manor.

      chapter 4

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