The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [20]
With a flash of pleasure she saw John Holbrook approaching, but her impulsive greeting froze as she saw that Reverend Bulkeley had the young man firmly by the elbow. In the shadow of his teacher an extra staidness had fallen over the young divinity student, and his smile was lukewarm with dignity. Not till John had courteously acknowledged the minister's introductions did he turn to Kit.
"I was glad to see you in Meeting," he said gravely, "you must have found the sermon uplifting."
Kit was nonplussed.
"How very fortunate we were to hear Dr. Bulkeley," John continued, taking her silence for agreement. He rarely preaches now, since his retirement. 'Twas a truly remarkable sermon. Every word seemed to me inspired."
Kit stared at him. Yes, actually, he was serious. Dr. Bulkeley had moved out of earshot, and there was no hint of flattery in John's earnest words. She was floundering for an answer when Judith spoke.
"Dr. Bulkeley's sermons are always inspired," she said demurely, "especially when he preaches about the final judgment."
John marked Judith's presence with surprise and respect. Under the white bonnet her face was sweetly serious, her eyes dazzlingly blue.
"His learning is incredible," he told her. "He can recite entire chapters of Scripture, and he knows law and medicine as well."
John's blush as he found the learned doctor again at his elbow was all the more flattering. Dr. Bulkeley glowed indulgently.
"I do know a bit of Scripture," he admitted. "But this young man has made a good start, a very good start indeed."
"You must bring your new pupil with you when you come to dine with us on Thursday," smiled Rachel Wood, and with a gracious acceptance Dr. Bulkeley steered his charge away. "And now, Katherine dear, here is another neighbor you must meet. Mistress Ashby, my niece from Barbados."
Kit curtsied, noting with satisfaction that this was one woman who did not despise vain adornment. Mistress Ashby's dove-colored damask with its gilt-edged lace must have come straight from England.
"And her son, William," continued her aunt. Braced to meet the reserve and suspicion she had encountered at every introduction so far, Kit was startled to meet the unmistakably dazzled gaze of William Ashby, and unconsciously she rewarded him with the first genuine smile she had managed this morning. Kit had no idea of what happened to her thin plain features when she smiled. William was speechless. As she turned to follow her aunt and Judith, Kit knew for certain that he had not moved, and that if she looked back she would see his sturdy frame planted motionless in the path. She did not look back, but she knew.
Walking back along the road Judith signaled Kit to fall behind the others. "You never mentioned that there was a handsome man on that boat," she whispered accusingly.
"Handsome? You mean John Holbrook?"
"You certainly seemed to know each other well enough."
"Well, there was no one else to talk to. But most of the time he sat by himself and studied."
"Have you set your cap for him?" asked Judith bluntly.
Kit colored to the edge of her bonnet. She would never get used to Judith's outspokenness.
"Goodness, no!" she protested. "Whatever made you think of such a thing?"
"I just wondered," Judith responded, and as Matthew Wood turned a stern look back at them, both girls walked on in silence.
"You certainly made an impression on William Ashby," Judith ventured presently.
There was no point in denying it. "Perhaps because I was someone new," said Kit.
"Perhaps. You aren't exactly pretty, you know. But naturally William would be impressed by a dress like that."
Kit wanted to change the subject. Wisps of smoke were beginning to rise from the chimneys of several small log lean-tos along the roadway. They seemed to offer a safe topic.
"Do people live in those tiny houses?" she inquired.
"Of course not. Those are Sabbath houses." Then Judith emerged from her own musings long enough to explain. "Families that