Orphan Train: A Novel by Christina Baker Kline (Trivia-On-Books)
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Trivia-on-Book: Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline
In the 1800’s up to early 1900’s, orphan trains were used to bring orphans and homeless children from the west to the east. They were lucky if the family that adopted them was loving and caring, but unfortunate if the family was not. Vivian Daly, a young Irish immigrant was one of the children who rode the orphan train. As she grew older she hid away everything that reminded her of her past but one day a girl doing community service at Vivian’s opened her past once more. Here, they find out that they're not so different from each other after all...
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• 30 Multiple choice questions on the book, plots, characters and author
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• Results provided with scores to determine "status"
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holding it up. “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s uneven.” She won’t look me in the eye. “Maybe you’re just . . .” Her voice trails off. “What?” “Maybe you aren’t cut out for this kind of work.” My bottom lip trembles, and I press my lips together hard. I keep thinking someone—maybe Fanny?—will step in, but no one does. “I learned how to sew from my mother.” “You’re not mending a rip in your father’s trousers. People are paying good money—” “I know how to sew,” I blurt. “Maybe better than you.”
do, she loops the sash around my waist and ties it in the back with a wide bow. We both inspect her handiwork in the mirror. “There we are. You look like a princess, my dear,” Mrs. Murphy declares. “Are your black stockings clean?” I nod. “Put them on, then. And your black shoes will be fine.” She laughs, her hands on my waist. “A redheaded Irish princess you are, right here in Minnesota!” AT THREE O’CLOCK THAT AFTERNOON, IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE first heavy snowstorm of the season, I
it. Late at night, Mr. Nielsen sits in the parlor at his rolltop desk, going over the store ledgers, while Mrs. Nielsen prepares our lunches for the next day, tidies the kitchen, takes care of household tasks. I help wash the dishes, sweep the floor. When chores are done, we play checkers or hearts and listen to the radio. Mrs. Nielsen teaches me to needlepoint; while she’s making intricately detailed pillows for the sofa, I work on the floral cover for a stool. One of my first tasks at the
past. She had not known the markings would be etched so deep. APPROACHING VIVIAN’S HOUSE, MOLLY LOOKS AT HER PHONE. IT’S later than she thought it would be—8:54. The fluorescent overhead bulb on the porch gives off a dim pink light. The rest of the house is dark. Molly heaves her bags onto the porch, rubs her shoulders for a minute, then walks around to the back, the bay side, peering up at the windows for any sign of life. And there it is: on the second floor of the far right side, two
eleven-year-old granddaughter, Becca, who grew up reading Blueberries for Sal and is, Sarah says, always up for an adventure. Vivian reads some of the e-mails out loud to Molly. I always wondered about you, Sarah writes. I’d given up hope of ever finding out who you are and why you gave me away. It’s exciting, this getting-ready business. A troupe of workers marches through the house, painting trim, fixing broken baluster shafts on the porch facing the bay, cleaning the Oriental rugs, and