THE WITCH OF BLACKBIRD POND - CSIR

ack stiffly straight, his large capable hands resting squarely on his sturdy wool- clad knees. He looked impressive, in his
cinnamon broadcloth coat and the fine linen shirt. His glossy beaver hat and white gloves were laid carefully on a chair near
the door. William seemed to feel that merely by coming he had done his share. Apparently it was up to her to provide the
conversation.
Aunt Rachel had laid a special fire in the company room and set lighted candles on the table. From the kitchen across the hall
Kit could hear the voices of the family as they sat cozily about the fire that was still welcome on these cool May evenings.
Tonight she longed to be with them. She would welcome even the Bible reading at this moment. She took a deep breath and
tried again.
"Is it always so chilly in New England, even in May?"
William considered this. "I think this spring is a bit warmer than usual," he decided.
As though in answer to her urgent prayer for relief, a knock sounded on the outside door, and as Aunt Rachel went to answer,
Kit heard John Holbrook's voice. Her aunt welcomed him cordially, and in a few moments put her head in at the parlor door,
her understanding glance taking in the two silent young people. "Why don't you both come and join us?" she suggested. ''John
Holbrook has come to call, and we call pop some corn for a treat." Bless Aunt Rachel!
Over a handful of huffy white kernels William relaxed a trifle. There was something irresistible about popcorn. John, his pale
cheeks hushed with the heat, managed the long shaker with a practiced hand. Judith blossomed suddenly in the firelight, and
her laughter was infectious. Mercy's eyes were shining with pleasure, Rachel, with a ghost of the charm she must once have
possessed, succeeded in drawing William, if not actually into the circle, at least to its warm circumference. Even Matthew
unbent enough to ask courteously, "Does your father have all his field sown?"
"Yes, sir," replied William.
"Notice he's cutting some trees up Vexation way."
"Yes, I'm planning to build my house come autumn. We have marked some good white oak for the clapboards."
Kit stared at him. William had not spoken so many words all the evening. Aunt Rachel encouraged him.
"My husband tells me you have been appointed a Viewer of Fences," she smiled. "That is a fine honor for so Young a man."