Bibeak knows the heart going into each little stitch. From the very first lines sketched on graph paper, to a custom order of cloth after talking it over and over with the shop owner, it's all as a gift to herself. Its future gradually taking shape in Bibeak's hands, a clear forecast of the brilliant piece it'll become. Life aboard Rhodes Island is freer than you'd imagine. Even though she came on to take treatment and aid, she can still take up the yarn as she likes. She's even started a cozy little class in the sewing room, teaching children who look forward to the future just as she does. It was all curious and new for the first-time visitors. They squeezed about, reaching out to touch all the tools on the tables—a boy amongst them knocked a fabric cutter away by accident, making a slice in the cloth. It panicked the children so suddenly, and without thinking they started to push at the perpetrator, who was even more frightened himself. 'You messed up Miss Bibeak's clothes!' 'Miss Bibeak! He did it!' Bibeak saw the damaged cloth, but didn't even have the chance to speak before the boy, now bright red, fled the room. Once Bibeak assuaged the children, she inquired where he might've gone, and after a knock and an 'Are you there?', the teary-faced boy came out of the door to his room. His head was hung low, and he held out his savings bank. 'I put all my pocket money in this burdy bank! I'm really, really sorry for ruining your clothes, Miss Bibeak!' Just as all teachers should, Bibeak knelt down and softly patted him on the shoulder to console him, and the sobs from the crybaby in her embrace gradually ceased. There's always far too much in life that runs contrary to your expectations, just like how Bibeak doesn't know what kind of design her pencil will put to paper in the coming seconds. Will it gild the lily, so to speak? Or will it change everything about what it was? She accepts the savings bank, but does not break it open. She prepares to revise the style of clothing, planning to sew a shirt fit for a grown child to wear. Ordinary tailors would amend an unwitting mistake, but a good tailor allows it to transform into a happy accident, one nobody sees coming. When the children come to the sewing room for classes again, the boy who blundered last time has his head low, standing at the very back. With a smile, Bibeak pulls him up to the table, and takes out the all-new shirt: 'I've accepted your burdy bank. Let everyone take a look, now—these are clothes made for you.' The children erupt in cheers, and they shove on the lucky little boy, clearly even more excited himself. His cheeks are aglow, and Bibeak knows, he'll surely cherish this present, and when he puts it on afterwards, he'll go do the right thing. That's what a tailor dreams of, using needle and thread to sew fine futures and bring them to others. Putting wishes and hopes into dress, for every person to wear.