Part 14 (2/2)

I do know I told him that I'd think it over and let him know soon.

I get back just in time and take Gretchen to Henry and say, ”Please, Henry, could you please walk her cool, I've got to get in to serve supper. I'm sorry I'm late.”

”Anything for you, Jacky. You go on.” He starts to walk Gretchen around the yard, cooling her down from our final gallop across the Common.

”Thanks, Henry, I'll make it up to you,” I say, and take the basket of fish from the back of the saddle and dash down toward the kitchen entrance of the school.

”It's about time, you!” says Peg. She takes the fish and smells them and then spills them out on a cutting board and picks up a cleaver and begins chopping off the heads and tails and such, all of which go into a pot for the making of stock. ”Take the chimes up and call them to supper and get ready to serve it. You take the head table tonight.”

I start rapping the chime thing in front of the dormitory and I turn to go back down to get ready to serve when I hear, ”Wait.”

I look back through the door and I see Clarissa standing straight in the center of the room. There are some of the girls around her.

”Come here, girl.”

I heave a mighty sigh and go into the dormitory room. I try to never be close to that room when the ladies are around, but this time I had no choice.

”Yes, Miss,” I say, and stand there and wait for it.

Clarissa tosses her net bag of soiled underwear at my feet. Some of the others do the same.

”Wash them and dry them and iron them and have them ready tomorrow.”

I put the chimes aside and stoop to pick up the bags. I save Clarissa's for last and that one I pick up twixt my thumb and forefinger and with pinky extended hold it out at full arm's length and turn my face as if the bag and its contents stink. I wrinkle my nose, turn, and head for the door.

I hear the patter of her feet behind me as she charges, and I feel her hands. .h.i.t my back as she stiff-arms me to the floor.

”You insolent piece of baggage, you! How dare you!”

I roll over and get to my knees and look up into Clarissa's furious face and I say, ”Miss Howe, do whatever you're going to do and get it over with, please.”

There, on my knees in front of Clarissa, I decide that I will join with Gully MacFarland and I will make enough money to buy pa.s.sage for England and I will go see Jaimy.

Clarissa raises her hand and I get ready for it when I hear, ”No. You shall not hit her. She is not one of your slaves.”

I look up and Amy is standing between Clarissa and me, and Clarissa's face is a porcelain mask of absolute fury, but she does not challenge Amy. She turns and stalks off.

I wonder why.

Amy comes to me and lifts me to my feet.

”Come,” she says, gathering up the scattered net bags, ”I will help you carry them down.”

In serving the supper this evening I study the Reverend more closely. He gives no sign of his plans for me except to glance up as I hold the platter next to him. He smiles and it is a ghastly sight to see, a smile on the face of what I am almost sure is a murderer. My stomach churns and threatens to come up on me, and it is with relief that I turn to Mistress and Dolley, the chosen one this evening. Dolley gives me a wink as she takes her portion. She is a good one and I like her.

There are two windows in my attic, one at either end. The one on the eastern end faces toward the church and is therefore no good. The window on the other end looks out to the west over mostly open field and marsh and is on a side of the building where almost no one ever goes, and tonight, I try this window again. I had tried it before but it wouldn't open, having been sealed shut by many coats of paint carelessly applied. Some of that vile Dobbs's work, no doubt. I take out my s.h.i.+v and get to work.

It takes me about an hour to free it up. I slide it open and lean out and look down. It's about three stories down to some bushes and there's a fairly large tree a ways out that will give some cover to my actions. Tomorrow I shall get some rope.

Chapter 17.

”Peg?” says I, turning the ball of bread dough over and adding flour to keep it from sticking to my fingers. I resumes kneading the spongy white lump. ”Did you know the girl from the church? The one what died over there? Last year?”

Peg don't say nothin' for a long time. ”A sad thing, that,” she finally says, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her face up into a grimace and shaking her head. ”We don't talk much about Janey Porter. It's all so sad ... what she did to herself. Not right, it wasn't.”

I don't say anything to that.

”Here, girl,” says Peg. ”You've got to get your shoulders into it. Make your knuckles into half fists and push 'em in hard. Arms straight. Like this.”

I does as she says. The dough puts up a fight but finally gives it up and becomes a smooth white ball. I put it on the rising board and I asks, ”What did she look like? That girl Janey.”

Peg sighs and says, ”She was pretty. Bright. Always with a laugh and a joke. Like you.” Peg smiles sadly at the remembering. ”She was over here a lot, not that you could blame her. Who'd want to spend all their time over there? With him and all his gloom and doom.”

”Don't like him much, do you, Peg?”

”All I'll say on that is that it was a sad day around here when Reverend Miller died and he took over the pulpit.” Peg puts her dough on” the board next to mine and sifts more flour into the mixing bowl. ”Now, old Miller could d.a.m.n us all to h.e.l.lfire and brimstone for our sins with the best of 'em, but somehow it was different. Under it all you got the feeling he loved his flock and was takin' care of 'em best he could. Don't get that feelin' with this Mather.”

”Amen,” says I, taking the sifter and putting in it three cups of flour. Ain't seen a weevil yet, not like on the s.h.i.+p. The flour falls down into the bowl in dusty waves. Like white curtains blowing in a breeze.

”You said Janey Porter was cheerful...” I trail off to see if Peg will pick it up or just tell me to be quiet and get off this sad subject.

”She was, till a while before ... it happened. Then she started gettin' more quiet. Like she was worried about something. No more laughin' and jokin'. I tried to get her to talk about it, but she wouldn't.” Peg starts in to kneading her next loaf, and I add water and yeast starter to mine and begin mixing it with a wooden spoon. ”Still, everyone was shocked when it happened. Poor thing, to die like that and be put in the ground without even a headstone to mark her time on this earth.”

”Warn't nothing wrong with Janey till he done her dirty,” says a voice behind me.

”Hush, Betsey. You don't know and 'cause you don't know, you should keep your mouth shut,” warns Peg.

I look back and see the usually quiet Betsey sitting at the long table, sh.e.l.ling peas into a big wooden bowl on the floor between her feet. I finish off my last dough ball and dust my hands and go help Betsey with the peas.

I let her be silent for a while and then I pop a few raw peas into my mouth and savor their earthy flavor and say, ”So?”

She looks up and I see that her eyes are full of tears. ”She was a special friend of mine, Janey was, and she was good and never hurt no one in this world.”

”I know she was a good girl, Betsey,” I say as gentle as I can. ”Can you tell me more? I'm not just being curious. It's important.”

She looks up at me sharply and I think she can tell I ain't lying.

”How came she here?” I ask.

”From a farm to the west. She was so happy and excited to be here when first she came to the city. We had such a fine time. Then ... well, you heard.” She snuffles back tears and savages a few helpless pea pods.

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