'Mother, may I go back to my drawing? I must draw the stranger I served at the bar.' Missy smiled to herself.
She could still see the nervous stranger she served at the bar the previous day. She knew the details of his face and wanted nothing more than to preserve that memory in one of her papers.
'You reckon your father hates to see you draw. From now, we must go out more. The men must see you clinging to my arms so that they may come to seek your hand.' Donna plaited the tip of the last braid and tapped her daughter's shoulder.
'Okay, mother. I shall ask father to buy me new dresses.' Missy stood up from the stool she sat and looked at her mother.
'You must get sleep now. I shall go to the tavern.' Donna said.
'What for, mother?' Missy asked.
Missy knew that her mother never went to the tavern unless it was of utmost importance.
