“Look, Father!” Judith said. “Kit has given me this fine dress.”
“Can a man not come back when he wants to his own house? And you, give it back to her at once! Do as I say!” Matthew shouted. “No one in my family needs any of such things.”
“But they are gifts,” cried Kit, hurt.
“Be quiet, girl! It is time you understood one thing. This will be your home because you have no other, but you will live our ways and not spoil my daughters with your vanity. Now close your trunks and do the work you have to do. Rachel, take off that stupid thing! No member of my family will appear in public like this.”
Mercy had said no word, but quietly folded the blue shawl and put it on top of the trunk.
“Will you let Mercy keep the shawl?” Kit asked quietly.
Matthew looked at the shawl and into his older daughter’s eyes. “All right, Mercy may keep the shawl. I thank you for it.”
So there was one weakness in this hard man!
* * *
“Well,” said Rachel when her husband had left the house again, “it’s my fault. And the table has not even been cleared from breakfast.”
Kit looked at the table. “Don’t the servants do that?”
“We have no servants,” said her aunt quietly.
Kit was surprised and disappointed. “I can help with the work,” she said finally.
“In that dress?” Judith protested.
“It is the simplest I have,” answered Kit. “Give me something of yours then.”
Judith turned red, “Oh, wear that one. You can help Mercy with the carding. You won’t make yourself dirty at that.”
For four long hours Kit sat on a wooden bench and struggled with wool. Mercy showed her how to do it. Carding looked so easy, but the moment Kit took the wool into her hands she admired Mercy’s skill. “Do you have to do all that by yourself?”
“Oh, the others help sometimes. But of course, there are so many things I can’t do. It’s so nice to have you to help.”
How terrible it must be for her, working here day after day. Suddenly, seeing Mercy’s friendly smile, Kit decided to ask a very important question, “Do you think I did wrong, Mercy, to come here? Your father…”
“You did exactly right,” smiled Mercy. “Father doesn’t mean to be unkind. It has been very hard for him here in Connecticut.”
Since Kit’s grandfather died, there had been no one whom she could trust. Now she found the words to say what she had never dared to say. “I had to come, Mercy. There was another reason. There was a man on the island, a friend of grandfather’s. He used to come often to see my Grandfather, and then I found out that he wanted to marry me. He tried to make me think that Grandfather had wanted it, but I’m sure that it was not so. He wanted to pay for everything and save the house. Everyone expected me to marry him. They said what a wonderful match it was. He wasn’t a bad man; actually, he was very kind. But Mercy, he was fifty years old! You see why I couldn’t wait to write? You see why I can’t go back, don’t you?”
“Of course you can’t go back,” said Mercy. “Father will not send you back. You will just have to show him that you can be useful here.”
* * *
By the end of that first day Kit understood that work in that house never stopped, and much of it Kit didn’t even know how to do. By the evening her eyes hurt, and she had burns and blisters on her fingers.
After dinner the candles were lit and Matthew put the great Bible in front of him on the table. Matthew’s reading was monotonous. Kit could not keep her mind on the words. Her head felt heavy, and she almost fell asleep. The others did not notice. Finally, her uncle closed the book and bent his head for the long evening prayer.
