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"He is a hypocrite and a whited sepulcher!" Matthew's fist crashed down on the table. "And I'll have no more texts read at me in my own house!"

Wearily the women set to work to clear the table, while Matthew raked up the fire in the hearth. All at once he straightened up. "There is another matter I forgot," he said. "Young William Ashby asked permission today to pay his respects to my niece."

A spoon clattered from Judith's fingers. There was utter silence in the room as Rachel and both her daughters turned to stare at Kit.

"You mean call on Katherine?" Aunt Rachel's voice was incredulous.

"That is what I said."

"But he has hardly seen her—only for a moment after Meeting."

"She was conspicuous enough."

Kit felt her cheeks growing hot. Judith opened her mouth to say something, glanced at her father and closed it again.

"I suppose we can hardly refuse," ventured Rachel. "He is a member of the Society in good standing, and he has gone about it quite properly."

"His father is another King's man," said her husband. "He proposed in council that we join with Massachusetts. But what can we expect, now that we harbor a Royalist under our own roof? Bring a candle, Rachel. We have wasted enough time for one night."

A constrained trio lingered after Rachel had climbed the stairs behind her husband. Mercy began quietly to make ready her own bed in the corner. A small wrinkle of concern marred her usually placid forehead.

"Well, I told you so!" Judith finally burst out. "I knew by the way he was staring at you after Meeting."

There was no use to pretend she didn't remember. Kit felt a small pleasurable stir of curiosity. "Do you know him, Mercy?"

"I know about him, of course," admitted Mercy.

"Who doesn't know about him?" added Judith. "Who hasn't heard that his father has three acres of the best land set aside, and the trees all marked to build the house the moment Master William makes up his mind? And he was just about to make it up, too, when you came along."

"We never really knew that, Judith," her sister reminded her gently. "We only thought so."

All at once Kit remembered. That first morning, when she was trying on the dress, Judith had said—

"Oh, dear," she exclaimed in dismay, "I don't want this William to come calling on me. Why, I've only seen him once, and I couldn't think of a word to say to him if he came. I'll tell Uncle Matthew so in the morning."

"Don't you dare say anything to Father!" Judith whirled on her.

"But if he—if you—"

"William never asked to call on me. I just said he was getting around to it."

"'Tis not quite fair, really," Mercy considered soberly, "to hold it against Kit, just because we thought—"

"Oh, I'm not holding it against Kit," Judith said airily. Suddenly she tossed her head. "As a matter of fact, Kit can have William with my blessing. I've changed my mind. I'm going to marry John Holbrook."

CHAPTER 7

WHAT ON EARTH could she think of to say next? Kit wondered in desperation. She sat looking down at her folded hands, reluctant to lift her eyes to the young man who sat on the bench across the wide hearth. She knew that when she looked up she would find William Ashby's gaze fixed steadily upon her. For the last half hour they had sat so. When a young man came to call what did one talk about? Was it all up to the girl? She had tried her best, but William seemed content just to sit, his back stiffly straight, his large capable hands resting squarely on his sturdy wool-clad knees. He looked impressive, in his cinnamon broadcloth coat and the fine linen shirt. His glossy beaver hat and white gloves were laid carefully on a chair near the door. William seemed to feel that merely by coming he had done his share. Apparently it was up to her to provide the conversation.

Aunt Rachel had laid a special fire in the company room and set lighted candles on the table. From the kitchen across the hall Kit could hear the voices of the family as they sat cozily about the fire that was still welcome on these cool May evenings. Tonight she longed