The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare Page B

could not pass by one more time.
    "I am going over there to see Hannah Tupper," she announced, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
    "The witch? Have you lost your senses, Kit?" Judith was scandalized.
    "She's not a witch, and you know it. She's a lonely old woman, and Judith, you couldn't help liking her if you knew her."
    "How do you know?" demanded Judith.
    Kit gave her cousin a short and careful version of the meeting in the meadow.
    "I don't see how you dared," Judith exclaimed. "Really, Kit, you do the oddest things."
    "Come with me now, Judith, and see for yourself."
    Judith couldn't be budged. "I wouldn't step inside that house for anything, and I don't think you should either. Father would be furious."
    "Then you go on without me. I won't be long."
    "What shall I tell them at home?"
    "Tell them the truth if you like," responded Kit airily, knowing quite well that Judith, for all her disapproval, would never give her away. The common bond of just being young together in that household was strong enough for that. She set off through the long grass, leaving her cousin standing doubtfully in the path.
    There was a pleasant humming sound in the small cabin. Hannah sat before her small flax wheel, her foot moving briskly on the treadle.
    "Sit down, child, while I finish this spindleful." She smiled as though Kit had merely stepped outside the door a moment before. Kit perched on a bench and watched the whirring wheel.
    "I came to tell you that I made my peace with the schoolmaster," she said at last. "I couldn't come before because I've been teaching in the school again."
    Hannah nodded without surprise. "I thought thee would," she commented. "Does it go better with thee now?"
    "Yes, I suppose so. At least Mr. Kimberley should be satisfied. He says that children are evil by nature and that they have to be held with a firm hand. But it's not much fun trying to keep my hand firm and being so solemn all day long. I feel sorry for those little boys."
    Hannah glanced over at Kit briefly. "So do I," she said dryly. "Did the schoolmaster make thee promise never to smile?"
    Kit looked back at the faded eyes, sunk deep in wrinkles, and caught the twinkle there. Suddenly she laughed. "You're right," she admitted. "I haven't even dared to smile. I'm afraid if I let myself go an inch I'll do something disgraceful again. But Mercy smiles all day long, and still keeps order."
    She reached down and scooped up the sleeping cat from the floor, settling its limp weight in her lap and tickling the soft chin until a contented purr almost matched the hum of the spinning wheel. The late afternoon sun slanted through the open door and fell across Hannah's gnarled hands as they moved swiftly and surely. Peace flowed into Kit. She felt warm and happy.
    "How fast you go," she said, watching the thread fattening on the bobbin. "Did you grow the flax yourself?"
    Hannah dipped her fingers into a gourd shell without slackening the wheel. "Some of the families in town always bring me their flax to spin," she explained. "I make a nice neat thread, if I do say so, but every year it seems to get harder to see it. I have to tell by the feel. Is it smooth enough, does thee think?"
    Kit admired the fine perfect thread that slipped evenly through Hannah's fingers. "It's beautiful," she said. "Even Mercy can't spin it like that."
    Hannah looked pleased as a child. "Fourpence a skein," she said. "Enough to pay the taxes and buy what I need."
    "Taxes? On this swamp land?" Kit was indignant.
    "Of course," Hannah said matter-of-factly, "and the fines for not going to Meeting."
    "They make you pay fines for that? Wouldn't it be better to go to Meeting instead?" Kit looked around at the much mended clothing and the sparse furnishings of the little room.
    "I doubt they would welcome me," Hannah said, again dryly, "even if I chose to go. In Massachusetts we Quakers had our own meetings."
    "Can I become a Quaker?" asked Kit, only half joking. "I'd rather pay a fine any day