Mary Janeway. Mary Pettit

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      The vegetable garden was an important source of supply for the farm kitchen. Caring for the fledgling plants would be a chore assigned to one of the younger children. This young boy, obviously a good worker, may have resembled Daniel Jr. Courtesy Barry Hoskins, Heritage Cards.

      “And it will be done again today.”

      Mary was getting discouraged. The weather was warm and the sunshine inviting. She had hoped to get her work done by mid-afternoon so she would have a little free time before preparing supper. But with extra jobs to do, this was not likely to happen.

      Finally, she was finished and allowed to go outside. Her favourite game was to take her rubber ball, which she carried in her apron pocket, and bounce it on the far side of the house against the hard clapboard, as far away as possible from Mrs. Jacques' hearing. She invented little challenges like trying to catch it with her left hand or pop it directly in her apron pocket.

      Within a few minutes, Daniel Jr., the youngest in the family, appeared at the side of the house. “Would you like to play?” Mary asked.

      “Why not,” he shrugged. They threw the ball back and forth and laughed whenever one of them missed. Daniel was obviously much better at catching and throwing but showed a reasonable amount of patience with Mary. For a little while she forgot her loneliness and began to act like a seven-year-old child.

      “And what do you think Mother will say about this, Daniel?” The laughter came to an abrupt halt. “Playing with a girl and the help at that!” The words came from his sister's lips. Annie's harsh manner intimidated both of them.

      With that, Daniel threw Mary's ball as hard as he could into the thicket of trees at the top of the hill and darted around the corner in the direction of the barn. Annie's mission had been accomplished and she walked back toward the house, thinking about Mary. In Annie's mind, Mary was different. Her clothes were not as nice as hers and she spoke with a slight accent. Mary was not part of her family and never would be. She was a servant girl, needed here on the farm to help her invalid mother. Her brother should not play with a servant—it wasn't proper.

      A formal studio photograph of May Jacques with her daughter Annie, circa 1893. Courtesy Joseph Jacques.

      Mary raced to the top of the hill in an attempt to find her one and only toy. In a frantic search, she dropped down an all fours, unaware that she was staining the front of her apron. Her tears were not only for the lost ball but also because of her disappointment in Daniel. She thought he was going to be her friend.

      Annie's voice, calling her back to the house, interrupted her search. It was time to prepare supper and bake for tomorrow's company.

      Daniel avoided looking at Mary at the supper table and nothing was said about the incident. Mary truly believed that he was sorry. She, however, was reprimanded for getting her apron dirty, but Mary had anticipated the scolding. With all that had happened that day, a few more harsh words did not make any difference.

      Mrs. Jacques admitted to being unusually fatigued that evening and introduced Mary to yet another task. “When I'm tired like this, I like to have my hair combed,” she said. Her dark, thick straight hair was coiled on top of her head in a bun. She removed several hairpins and the long, black mane fell halfway down her back. It became Mary's job to comb and brush her hair until Mrs. Jacques felt satisfied.

      And so she sat in her wheelchair by the stove and Mary stood behind her and brushed and combed, sometimes for as long as an hour, while the others pursued their own activities. Frequently, Mr. Jacques went to the barn since smoking was not allowed in the house.

      “I'll let you know when you may stop.”

      Mary's arms ached and if she slowed down she would be reminded of her job. “I can't feel it. Press harder with the comb or there's no point in doing it.”

      When she was finally given permission to go to bed, Mary was relieved to be alone in her little loft. She longed to hold the barn cat in her arms and fell asleep dreaming about Cat.

      Mary found the rhythmic purr of her feline friend soothing. The cat burrowed further under her bent elbow and finally rested its head on her chest. The soft little belly rose and fell as it drifted off to sleep.

      Suddenly and without warning, the cat sprang to life and jumped off her body. She had forgotten where she was, of course, the hayloft. The sun was beaming in through open boards. It was far too glorious a day to waste sleeping.

      “You're so smart” , she said, peering over the loft at a pair of big green eyes staring up at her. “We should be out in the sun, not stuck here in this loft.” Mary ran to the ladder and climbed down. She slowly pulled the barn door open and before she could step out, the cat slid past her and was gone, moving so fast that Mary was even uncertain as to which direction it had gone.

       Her instinct told her the cat probably headed for the grove of trees beyond Mama's clothesline. She ran up the small hill, half expecting to see Will and John playing ball in the clearing but they weren't there. And neither was the cat.

      “Cat, where did you go? I know you're hiding. Come on out, Cat, wherever you are.”

      She was getting annoyed. “Let's go back to the house. Mama might have a treat for us.” Cat loved Mama's treats, fresh cream or bread and honey. She heard a sound, thought she saw something and reached out to grab it. “Now I've got you,” she laughed.