children, Callie. Could you give me a few minutes alone to get to know you?"
Meg watched Callie's expressive eyes and believed that whatever made them cloud with fear would be resolved with James's guidance.
Callie listened to the fatherly warmth of his voice. But -even that soft, loving rumble wasn't enough to thaw her sufficiently to go against Mrs. Pettibone's warning. The Bereans might not understand; they might blame her for what had happened to her at Mrs. Peach's house. Callie was candid, trying to explain to James how she had felt when her father died, and how much he had meant to her, but that was all she would talk about.
James pursed his lips, wondering what the girl was withholding and why. Though what she had said had the ring of truth, it in no way explained her hysterics or her obvious aversion to Peter. He sighed and patted her shoulder, ending their brief conversation. With time, he thought, leading her into the dining room; everything will mend with time.
Meg directed her to the seat between Natalie and Stephen. It was a happy bedlam as they all sat down,
still talking and occasionally lifting a heavy mug of cider to toast Callie's arrival or anything else they could think of. The two serving girls waited patiently. No one was willing to be quiet Peter even toasted the infamous Captain Swing.
"I wont drink a drop to him." Albert set his mug down heavily. "It's treasonous."
The others drank with grumbling joviality.
'Who is Captain Swing?" Callie whispered to Natalie.
Natalie's blue-veined lids lowered over her golden cat eyes; then she looked slyly at Callie. "Ohh . . . Captain Swing is a very mysterious man . . . and evil. No one knows if he is a man at all. He may be a ghost ... or a spirit power." Suddenly she giggled. "Don't be frightened. Spirits can't hurt you. I wouldn't let them."
Callie smiled tentatively, not certain how to distinguish between Natalie teasing and Natalie serious.
Again Natalie giggled, thrusting her chest out and clenching her tiny fists. "See what a brave defender I'll ber
Callie burst out laughing, then pressed her hand against her lips, her eyes on Peter.
"James! Say a prayer quickly and get us started with the meal," Meg said loudly. Conversation ended. Heads bowed. James's gentle rumbling voice filled the room, thanking the Lord for their food, their family, and the bounty of their land.
Conversation began anew as soon as supper was served. Callie listened, trying to assess the family. Anna and Rosalind were talking about the house and some sewing Anna was doing for Rosalind. Natalie sat at Callie's side daydreaming. Withdrawn from the others, Natalie was rapt and intent. She was beautiful in so delicate a way that Callie had the feeling Natalie
was someone she had imagined rather than a flesh and blood girl she could touch with the merest movement of her elbow.
The men returned to the subject of Captain Swing. And Callie's eyes returned, as they had all evening, to Peter Berean. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else when he was there to cloud her mind, so she was slow to realize that very real worries underlay the Bereans* merry squabbling banter.
Callie jumped as Frank slammed his mug on the table and spoke nearly in a shout. "There has never been a time when the peasants have been satisfied with their lot, and there never will be. There will always be a division between the leaders of the world and those who were meant by God to serve. It's in the nature of man, and no reform will change it. It is by Divine creation meant to be!"
Peter guffawed. "And you, of course, are among those divinely chosen to lead. Why? Because you have a patch of land?"
"I know what to do with that land! I make it produce. And I know what to do with the profits. I know how to live, and I go beyond the thinking of a man in a hovel who knows nothing but to drink every bloody penny he lays hands on. What you can't understand, Peter, is that we are in a new age. The war
Meg watched Callie's expressive eyes and believed that whatever made them cloud with fear would be resolved with James's guidance.
Callie listened to the fatherly warmth of his voice. But -even that soft, loving rumble wasn't enough to thaw her sufficiently to go against Mrs. Pettibone's warning. The Bereans might not understand; they might blame her for what had happened to her at Mrs. Peach's house. Callie was candid, trying to explain to James how she had felt when her father died, and how much he had meant to her, but that was all she would talk about.
James pursed his lips, wondering what the girl was withholding and why. Though what she had said had the ring of truth, it in no way explained her hysterics or her obvious aversion to Peter. He sighed and patted her shoulder, ending their brief conversation. With time, he thought, leading her into the dining room; everything will mend with time.
Meg directed her to the seat between Natalie and Stephen. It was a happy bedlam as they all sat down,
still talking and occasionally lifting a heavy mug of cider to toast Callie's arrival or anything else they could think of. The two serving girls waited patiently. No one was willing to be quiet Peter even toasted the infamous Captain Swing.
"I wont drink a drop to him." Albert set his mug down heavily. "It's treasonous."
The others drank with grumbling joviality.
'Who is Captain Swing?" Callie whispered to Natalie.
Natalie's blue-veined lids lowered over her golden cat eyes; then she looked slyly at Callie. "Ohh . . . Captain Swing is a very mysterious man . . . and evil. No one knows if he is a man at all. He may be a ghost ... or a spirit power." Suddenly she giggled. "Don't be frightened. Spirits can't hurt you. I wouldn't let them."
Callie smiled tentatively, not certain how to distinguish between Natalie teasing and Natalie serious.
Again Natalie giggled, thrusting her chest out and clenching her tiny fists. "See what a brave defender I'll ber
Callie burst out laughing, then pressed her hand against her lips, her eyes on Peter.
"James! Say a prayer quickly and get us started with the meal," Meg said loudly. Conversation ended. Heads bowed. James's gentle rumbling voice filled the room, thanking the Lord for their food, their family, and the bounty of their land.
Conversation began anew as soon as supper was served. Callie listened, trying to assess the family. Anna and Rosalind were talking about the house and some sewing Anna was doing for Rosalind. Natalie sat at Callie's side daydreaming. Withdrawn from the others, Natalie was rapt and intent. She was beautiful in so delicate a way that Callie had the feeling Natalie
was someone she had imagined rather than a flesh and blood girl she could touch with the merest movement of her elbow.
The men returned to the subject of Captain Swing. And Callie's eyes returned, as they had all evening, to Peter Berean. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else when he was there to cloud her mind, so she was slow to realize that very real worries underlay the Bereans* merry squabbling banter.
Callie jumped as Frank slammed his mug on the table and spoke nearly in a shout. "There has never been a time when the peasants have been satisfied with their lot, and there never will be. There will always be a division between the leaders of the world and those who were meant by God to serve. It's in the nature of man, and no reform will change it. It is by Divine creation meant to be!"
Peter guffawed. "And you, of course, are among those divinely chosen to lead. Why? Because you have a patch of land?"
"I know what to do with that land! I make it produce. And I know what to do with the profits. I know how to live, and I go beyond the thinking of a man in a hovel who knows nothing but to drink every bloody penny he lays hands on. What you can't understand, Peter, is that we are in a new age. The war
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