Mable tried to take Nettie's words to heart.  She was probably right, after all - Father Brennan was big and strong, and he could do anything he set his mind to.  If he wanted to come back to Whitby, then he would.

But also... if he never wanted to, he would do that too.

Thankfully, Mable was pulled from her spiraling thoughts by the new store she stepped into with Nettie.  This one smelled just like old houses, but in a pleasant way Mable liked a lot.

"My letters are very good already," she said idly, "but more practice couldn't hurt I suppose.  You know who really needs practice, Miss Nettie?  That boy, Edmund.  He can hardly read or write, isn't that shameful?  Also, do you think we can rebind my book with the pink thread?  It would make it a lot prettier, but I don't want to make God mad..."