"Education?"
"I was in my last year at high school when"—her cheek flamed—"when this happened."
Miss Blair construed the flush as a hopeful sign. "You may sit down, Jean," she said, indicating the narrow iron bed. "Let me see your knitting."
The girl handed over the task work which had made isolation doubly odious.
The superintendent pursed her thin lips.
"Have you never set up a stocking before?" she asked.
"No."
"Can you sew?"
"No."
"Or cook?"