The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare [46]
She glanced longingly toward the little house by Blackbird Pond and promised herself that she would steal a few moments on the way home. But work as fast as she could, when she and Judith finished their task there was time for only a flying visit. Prudence had been there, Hannah told her, but had not dared to wait for a lesson.
"If only these old eyes of mine could make out the letters," Hannah regretted. "But actually the child doesn't seem to need much help. She's just hungry for more to read. Poor little mite. I keep hoping the goat's milk will put a little fat on her bones."
Judith was out of sight when Kit started back along South Road. But to her surprise she glimpsed a familiar wide black hat in the distance and paused to wait as John Holbrook came loping along the road to catch up with her.
"Dr. Bulkeley sent me to find some skunk cabbage," he explained, waving a bunch of green. "'Tis a rare cure for asthma, he says. How do you come to be walking alone?"
"Judith went on ahead," she explained. Had he hoped to meet Judith on the road? "I stopped to see Hannah Tupper."
She said the name deliberately and was rewarded by his startled eyes.
"The Widow Tupper? Does your family know about that, Kit?"
"Judith and Mercy know. Hannah is a good friend of mine."
"She is a Quaker."
"Does that matter?"
"Yes, I think it does," he said thoughtfully. "Not that I hold anything against the Quakers. But this woman has no proper reputation. She's been accused twice of practicing witchcraft."
"That's just cruel gossip."
"Probably, but I'd hate to see it turned against you too. You know. Kit, there are a few people here in town who still haven't forgotten that day you jumped into the river. If they find out that you're acquainted with a witch—"
"John, how can you pay attention to anything so silly?"
"Witchcraft isn't silly, Kit. Dr. Bulkeley says—"
"Oh, Dr. Bulkeley says!" retorted Kit. "I'm tired of hearing what Dr. Bulkeley says. Don't you ever think for yourself any more, John?"
At the hurt in his blue eyes she was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry," she said, impulsively laying a hand on his sleeve. "I didn't mean that really. But since you've been studying with that man you seem to have changed somehow."
At once he forgave her. "You don't know him as I do," he explained. "Every day I realize more how much I have to learn. But it's not just the studies. We do change, Kit, in spite of ourselves—at least some of us do," he added, with a flash of the humor she had missed in him lately. "I don't want to preach it you, Kit. It's just that the Quakers have a name for stirring up trouble, and it seems to me you manage to get into enough by yourself."
"I know," Kit agreed cheerfully, "but it's Hannah who's helping me to change. If you only knew her—"
John walked beside her, listening earnestly as she tried to make him understand the lonely woman in the meadow. Presently they reached the crossing at Broad Street where John would turn toward Dividend, and they stood for a moment, both unwilling to end this rare moment of comradeship. John took off his hat, leaned his elbows on the fencepost and stood gazing reflectively back at the Meadows, the wind stirring his fair hair. All at once he turned and smiled at Kit with the same unexpected sweetness that had warmed her heart that first day in Saybrook harbor.
"Five months," he said, "since we came here together on the Dolphin. Such high hopes we had, you and I. It has turned out well for you, hasn't it, Kit? A fine big house going up, and a good dependable fellow like William. I hope you will be very happy."
Kit colored and looked down at the browning grass. She did not want to talk about William. "And you, John?" she asked instead.
"Perhaps," he answered, and the smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. "We shall see."
Sooner than you think, maybe, thought Kit. "Are you going to the husking bee tonight?" she inquired mischievously.
"I don't know," he considered. "Will Mercy be there?"
"Mercy? Why no, I don't suppose she can be. It's