It still didn’t make much sense to Trixie but, all things being equal, she found she didn’t much care about the Lord or how he thought she ought to behave. It would probably contradict what her teachers and mother and father told her, which amounted to three different modi operandi on how she should handle herself anyway, so she hardly needed a fourth.

“I think he should spend more of his time telling those girls how to handle themselves,” she retorted with a scowl, wondering how long she had before the rumour reached less forgiving ears. Unless she could cut it off before it spread? Those girls couldn’t have gotten far… “How does the Lord stand on responding to tests in a way that might not be pretty but is much more practical?”

Chuckling in response Trixie felt her temper dampen and the impulse to do somebody harm lessen. It wasn’t gone entirely, that would be quite the miracle, but she didn’t feel the need to imminently chase them down.

“Your hands are probably a lot cleaner than mine,” she quipped back. Miss Fairchild was odd indeed, but she seemed more her age when she laughed, even quietly. Perhaps the other girl’s life was as shite as hers was and had aged her too?