8
Danica found out soon enough, since Mrs. Marshall appeared at the boarding house promptly at five minutes before ten on Sunday morning, both her boys in tow. They grinned at Danica, apparently not self-conscious at all, and she smiled back. They both had their mother’s wavy brown hair and gray eyes, although they looked as if they’d end up being blessed with a good deal more height than she possessed. Maybe their father had been tall.
That morning, Danica had put on her wine-colored wool gown, since it seemed a little dressier than the two cotton outfits she had. She was still trying to come to grips with the realization that she’d spent an entire night here, had slept in the narrow white iron bedstead in her room and hadn’t blinked back to the twenty-first century as soon as her eyes
