The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [30]
"Kit—" broke in Mercy anxiously. "I never heard of anything like that before. Are you sure—?"
"Oh, Mercy! It's from the Bible! Now, each of you, try to imagine just how you'd feel if you really were those people. Just make believe this isn't a room at all—it's a hot dusty road, and Peter, you are getting very tired from walking so far."
The children were entranced. A game of pretending in school! They took their places, jabbering with excitement. Charity picked up the broom by the hearth and began to sweep. "An innkeeper is busy all the time," she said importantly. Jonathan Ashby stood stolidly beside Mercy, waiting for his chance to be the rescuer. Peter began his long journey between the benches.
But Kit had made one mistake. She had picked her characters too hastily. By chance she had chosen the three most obstreperous pupils in the school to be her thieves and robbers. And the hapless boy who represented the traveler was the priggish little scholar they most cordially disliked.
The unsuspecting traveler fell into his part as conscientiously as he read his primer. He walked primly between the benches from Jerusalem to Jericho. Out from behind the settle popped the robbers, and set upon him with a vengeance.
"Wait a minute!" warned Kit. "Tom—Stephen—we're only pretending!" But her warning was lost in the uproar. Such an opportunity, sanctioned by authority, had never been known before. Peter's raiment actually was in danger. His shrieks were genuine. Jonathan, forgetting his role entirely, rushed in with both fists flying. The innkeeper hurried to the wayfarer's defense with her broom. Both Kit and Mercy moved quickly, but not quickly enough.
From the corner of her eye Kit glimpsed the two tall figures in the kitchen doorway. Then, before she could reach the tussling children, a cane swung from nowhere and landed on an unwary back. A smart crackle of blows, a few agonized howls, and silence and order descended suddenly on the room. Across the subdued children's heads Kit and Mercy faced their two visitors, Mr. Eleazer Kimberley, the schoolmaster, and the Reverend John Woodbridge.
"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" demanded Mr. Kimberley. "We come to inspect your school, Mistress Wood, and we find bedlam."
Mercy opened her mouth to explain, but Kit broke in first. "It is all my fault, sir. I was just trying out a new idea."
"What sort of idea?"
"Well, sir, I was reading a story out loud to them from the Bible, and I thought instead it might be—more instructive maybe—to sort of—well, to act it out, and—"
"To act it!"
"Like a play, you know," Kit floundered, confused by the increasing horror on both their faces. Mr. Kimberley seemed to be strangling.
"Play-acting! And with the Bible!"
Reverend Woodbridge stared incredulously at Mercy. "What could you have been thinking of, Mercy, to allow such a thing?"
Mercy clasped her hands tight together. "I—I didn't realize what we were doing, sir," she faltered. "I never thought that it was play-acting."
"I am shocked and disappointed," he said sternly. "I had heard such excellent reports of your school."
Mr. Kimberley flourished his cane at the silent children. "Go directly home, boys and girls. The school is dismissed. Do not come back tomorrow. We will send word if the school will continue."
"Oh, please, Mr. Kimberley," begged Kit, as the children, one by one, slipped through the door and escaped. "You can't not continue the school because of what I did. It wasn't Mercy's idea at all. Dismiss