 There she goes, lavender felt hat set just so and umbrella poised to spear offending litter. Early risers might catch a glimpse of Miss Dimple Kilpatrick as she sets out on her early morning ritual of a brisk walk before breakfast, but only if they look quickly, as she's always the first to arrive at Elderberry Grammar School, usually even before the janitor has the monster furnace creaking to life. Just as the sun creeps over Fox Grape Hill above town and slowly softens the tree-shaded streets of Elderberry, Georgia, the familiar purple-clad figure makes her way down Katherine Street, past the post office on the corner where Uncle Sam's stern face and pointing finger demand the unquestioning service of the town's young men, and through the meandering walks of the park where a sudden breeze rattles leaves in the dark magnolias. In the windows of many homes along her way she sees the familiar banner with a blue star for each family member in the armed forces, and a gold one for the ones who have sacrificed their lives in the war. Miss Dimple is as proud of every blue star as if they represented her own, and as saddened by the gold ones, remembering the not-so-long-ago faces of the six-year-olds who once sat in her classroom, and her heart is scarred by the loss. When I first began writing about Dimple Kilpatrick, I didn't know much about her, only that she is a dedicated teacher of the no-nonsense variety who cares about her small charges and is devout in her profession. Like most Americans during the years of World War II, she is patriotic to the core, even baking unappetizing "Victory Muffins" she claims are good for the digestive system. The fact that nobody else will eat them, doesn't seem to bother her at all. After a few chapters, however, I learned of the Hershey bars and vanilla wafers locked safely away from prying eyes in her desk drawer. I learned of Henry, the younger brother she adores, and whom she helped to raise after their mother died. Having spent her growing-up years on the family farm, she is no stranger to picking cotton and can slip into overalls and hold her own with the best of them. An astute judge of character, she is quick-thinking and loyal to a fault. Her fellow teachers, landlady, and Odessa Kirby, the cook at Phoebe Chadwick's rooming house, are, next to Henry, her family, and she treats them as such. She doesn't like to sew, but can if she has to. She does like to read. Her favorites are mysteries and the poetry of Emily Dickinson, and she especially enjoys sharing Winnie the Pooh and Pinocchio with the children in her class. If I had to think of one word to describe Miss Dimple Kilpatrick, I would consider respect, because she has earned that, not only from her students and fellow teachers, but from the town where she lives; but after completing two of the books in the series, I believe she is best described by the word love. Dimple Kilpatrick is capable of great love. She faithfully wears the plain gold bar pin that once belonged to the mother who died too soon, and dresses in the color purple for a fiancé who was killed in the Spanish American War - although she has yet to mention his name. She is aware that the country she loves must win this war because they are right, and Miss Dimple believes in right. She loves the town where she lives from the windswept grasses on Peach Orchard Hill and the cracks in the sidewalk on Ivy Street to the quaint log cabin library where her friend Virginia spends her days. But most of all, I think, she loves those lucky, lucky children who are her students. They must remember, however, that it's: i before e, except after c; when two vowels go out walking, the first one does the talking, and, most of all, the only place to chew gum is in the closet!
As the war progresses, so do the struggles of Miss Dimple and the people of Elderberry in their efforts to support the troops as you'll find in MISS DIMPLE RALLIES TO THE CAUSE. In the third, MISS DIMPLE SUSPECTS, readers will discover that war also causes other complcations - along with murder, of course.
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