The first day in the land of apples was a bitter cold one for the snow still covered the ground and the trees were bare. A large bell rang for breakfast, it's loud mettalic voice crashing through the belfry overhead and I to our senstive ears.The annoying clatters of shoes on bare floors gave us no peace. The constant clash of harsh noises, with an undercurrent of many voices murmuring an unknown tongue, made a bedlam within which I was secretly tied. And though my spirit tore itself in struggling for its lost freedom, all was useless.
A paleface woman., with white hair, came up after us. We were placed in a line of girls who were marching into the dining room. These were Indian girls in stuff shoes and closely clinging dresses. The small girls wore sleeved aprons and shingled hair. As I walked noiselesly in my soft moccassins, I felt like sinking to the floor, for my blanket hd been stripped from my shoulders. I looked hard at the Indian girl, who seemed not to care that they were even more immodestly dressed than me, in there tightly fitting clothes while we marched in, the boys entered at an opposite door. I watched for the three young braves who came in our party. I spied them in the rear ranks, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. A small bell was tapped, and each of them pulled a chair from under the table . Supposing this act means each of them is going to be seated. I pulled out mine and at once slliped into it from one side but when I turned my head, I saw that I was the only one seated and all the rest at our table were standing. Just as I began to rise, looking shyly around to see how chairs were meant to be used, a second bell was sounded.