𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑼𝑹.

father, into your hands, why have you forsaken me?

Had he /seen/ John’s writing? (What little there was) That was the appeal of his writing. She gave him a soft nudge, a thank you to his complement on her writing. “Practice makes perfect… Hosea still giving you lessons?” She knew he taught Arthur, but wasn’t +

She hums, leaning over once the book is open and eyeing the pages. “Those are really good Arthur!” She’s seen him doodling but has never seen the outcome. “And your writings gotten so much better!” After a thoughtful pause, she shrugs. “When I don’t know what to write +

ᅠ better be ! or yer not eatin !

She gives a soft laugh. “Alright” in the end, she knew he’d do it… maybe. She patted the ground lightly next to her. “Did you bring your journal? How’s your penmanship coming along?”

ᅠ just messin’ with ya . ride on , kid . don’t stay out too late . and no more petty fights — ! ᅠ

Finally she turns to him, she’s smiling brightly and shakes her head. “Arthur I can see the wood right there, not chopped” he points to the pile. “Bet you didn’t collect the chickens eggs either… was it your day to help Person skin the animals?” She could keep listing.

ᅠ oh , freedom ? ya hidin’ something , son ? sneakin’ around with a suitor ? that’s why you don’t want no one comin’ with ya ? ᅠ

For a moment she pretends not to see him. Then she writes in bolded letters. “Arthur should be doing his chores~”

ᅠ atta boy . but no more fights .ᐟ or do you need some one to accompany you every time you go out inta’ town . . .