The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [16]
"Even the gloves, Father?" Judith was still rebellious. "Everyone wears gloves to Meeting."
"Everything. No member of my household will appear in public in such unseemly apparel."
Mercy had said no word, but now as she folded the blue shawl and laid it quietly on top of the trunk, Rachel found courage for her only protest. "Will you allow Mercy to keep the shawl?" she pleaded. "'Tis not gaudy, and 'twill keep off the draft there by the chimney."
Matthew's glance moved from the shawl to his daughter's quiet eyes, and barely perceptibly the grim line of his jaw relaxed. So there was one weakness in this hard man!
"Very well, Mercy may keep the shawl. I thank you for it." The bitter word was forced out just in time. Had it not been for this hint of grace, Kit's anger might have erupted in a scene that would have spoiled all her chances on this first morning. As it was she felt an unwilling respect that made her hold her tongue and set to work folding and replacing the piles of clothing.
Judith's tears were packed away in the folds of the blue dress. There was silence after the door had shut once more.
"Well," sighed Rachel, "'tis all my fault. I can't blame you girls, but at my age—and the board not even cleared from breakfast."
Kit looked back at the table curiously. "Don't the servants do that?" she inquired.
"We have no servants," said her aunt quietly.
Surprise and chagrin left Kit speechless. "I can help with the work," she offered finally, realizing that she sounded like an overeager child.
"In that dress!" Judith protested.
"I'll find something else. Here, this calico will do, won't it?"
"To work in?" Disappointment had put an edge to Judith's tongue.
"'Tis all I have," retorted Kit. "Give me something of yours then."
Judith's cheeks went scarlet. "Oh, wear that one. You can help Mercy with the carding. You won't dirty yourself at that."
Kit shortly repented her offer. For four mortal hours she sat on a wooden bench and struggled to grasp the tricky process of carding wool. Mercy demonstrated on two pieces of thin board to which were fastened strips of leather set with hooked wire teeth. From a great pile of heavy blue wool she pulled a small tuft, caught it in the wire teeth of one board, and drew across it the second board till the fibers were brushed flat.
"Isn't the color pretty?" she inquired. "Mother promised Judith that if she helped with the shearing this year we could buy some indigo from the West Indies. Judith hates handling the greasy wool and washing it, but she will be happy with the blue cloth." In one deft motion she plucked the wool from the teeth and rolled it into a fluffy ball.
It looked so easy, but the moment Kit took the wool cards into her hands she appreciated Mercy's skill. They were such awkward things. The wool fluffed and stuck to her fingers and snarled in clumps. She suspected that Judith had chosen this task on purpose.
"You're getting the knack," approved Mercy when a few misshapen little balls finally lay in the basket.
Kit eyed the great heap of wool. "You have to do all that by yourself?"
"Oh, the others help between times. But of course, there are so many things I can't do. You don't know how nice it is to have you to help. 'Tis a marvel how much faster the work goes when there's someone to talk to."
Fasti All this time and that great pile hardly touched! But Mercy had sounded sincere. How dreary it must be for her, working here day after day. Kit was ashamed of her own impatience. Suddenly, under Mercy's friendly smile, the question that had been troubling her all the morning burst out.
"Do you think I did wrong, Mercy, to come here?"
"You did exactly right," smiled Mercy.
"But your