The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [39]
The struggle behind those round eyes hurt to watch. "Maybe," whispered Prudence, and then she turned and ran.
Kit walked slowly back into the schoolroom. What excuse could she make to get into her trunks today? At the bottom of one of them, she had remembered, was a little hornbook. It had been a present, brought from England by friends of her grandfather's. It was backed by silver filigree, underlaid with red satin, and it had a small silver handle. She had never really used it; she remembered how she had astonished the visitors by reading every letter straight off, but she had cherished the gift for its delicate craftsmanship.
What a pity every child couldn't learn to read under a willow tree, Kit thought a week later. She and Prudence sat on a cool grassy carpet. A pale green curtain of branches just brushed the grasses and threw a filigree of shadows, as delicate as the wrought silver, on the child's face. This was the third lesson. At first Prudence had been speechless. In all her short life the child had seldom seen, and certainly never held in her hands, anything so lovely as the exquisite little silver hornbook. For long moments she had been too dazed to realize that the tiny alphabet fastened to it was made up of the same as and b's and ab's that she had overheard through the school doorway. But now, by this third meeting, she was drinking in the precious letters so speedily that Kit knew she must soon find a primer as well.
"'Tis getting late. Prudence. I don't want you to get into trouble, and I must go back, too."
The child sighed and held out the hornbook obediently.
"That is yours, Prudence. I meant it for a present for you."
"She'd never let me have it," the little girl said regretfully. "You'll have to keep it for me."
Kit made a decision. She had been wanting an excuse to take Prudence to Hannah. She had a feeling that the child needed that comforting refuge even more than she did herself.
"I know what we'll do," she suggested. "We'll leave the book here with Hannah. Then any time you want to use it you can come and get it from her."
Terror blanched the child's face.
"Prudence, listen to me. You're afraid of Hannah because you don't know her, and because you've heard things that just aren't true."
"She'll cut off my nose if I go near her!"
Kit laughed, then took the child's hands in her own and spoke as earnestly as she knew how. "You trust me, don't you?"
The small head nodded solemnly.
"Then come with me and see for yourself. I promise you, on my honor, nothing will hurt you."
The bony hand in hers was trembling as they walked down the grassy path, but Prudence stepped resolutely beside her. Kit's heart ached suddenly with pity and gratitude at such trust.
"I've brought another rebel to visit you," she announced, as Hannah came to the door. Hannah's pale eyes twinkled.
"What a wonderful day!" she exclaimed. "Four new kittens, and now visitors! Come and see."
Under a corner of the cabin, on a pile of soft grass, the great yellow cat curled protectively around four tiny balls of fluff. Her topaz eyes glowed up at them, and her purr was boastful. Completely disarmed, Prudence went down on her knees.
"Oh, the dear little things," she whispered, reaching one reverent finger. "Two black ones, and one striped and one yellow one." Over her head Kit and Hannah smiled.
"If thee is very, very careful, thee can pick one up and hold it," Hannah told her.
With a black kitten cradled in her hands, Prudence watched them find a safe corner for the hornbook.
"Thee is welcome any time, child. I'll keep it safe for thee. Now show me what thee has learned today. What letter is this?"
In the clean white sand on the floor Hannah traced a careful B. Looking at Prudence, Kit held her breath. But there was no trace of fear in those fawnlike eyes as Hannah held out the stick. Boldly Prudence reached to take it in her own hand, and carefully and proudly she traced the lines herself.
"I believe there must be a morsel of blueberry cake for such a smart pupil," praised