Free Here Comes a Candle by Jane Aiken Hodge Page B

still further up the narrowing river, noting, as they went, how gracefully the child moved. Already, she was beginning to agree with Jonathan Penrose whose optimism abo ut the child ’ s condition had previously seemed to her merely the hopeful self-delusion of a devoted parent. But now—could there really be anything seriously wrong with this bright-eyed, graceful little creature?
    Of course, her continued silence was disconcerting, and so was the odd sliding way her eyes refused to meet one ’ s own ... If only she knew more about children ... Following Sarah into a secluded hollow of the woods, Kate promised herself that she would learn. Here, the ground was carpeted with violets, not only the blue ones she was used to in England, but big yellow ones as well. She bent, with an exclamation of pleasure, to smell them, only to exclaim again in disappointment. They were scentless.
    Sarah had been watching her. Now she turned to lead the way to a coolly shadowed nook among boulders where grew a glossy-leaved, pink-flowered plant Kate had never seen before. This time, it was Sarah who bent, in almost comic imitation of Kate ’ s gesture, to sniff ecstatically. Following suit, Kate was rewarded by a delicious fragrance, at once sweet and spicy. “ It ’ s heavenly, ” she said. “ Thank you, Sarah. ” And then, hopefully, “ What ’ s it called? ”
    No answer. Losing interest in the flowers, Sarah had picked up a handful of sticks and was laying them out in a line across the little glade. She seemed happy and occupied, and Kate settled herself on one of the stones to watch and wonder about her. But sunshine, creeping across the gray boulders, reminded her that they must have been out a long time. She jumped to her feet and held out her hand. “ Time to go home, Sarah, I ’ m starving. ” And then, on an inspiration she was slightly ashamed of, as the child hung back, eyes lowered, mouth drooping: “ The carriage must have gone long since. Won ’ t you show me the way back to the house? ”
    No question but Sarah understood everything that was said to her. She looked through her bundle of sticks, chose one, dropped the others, and turned to lead the way down yet another well-trodden path. To Kate ’ s relief, it left the river and cut through the woods to bring them quickly back to the shrubbery near the house. The back door still stood hospitably open, and Sarah suddenly darted ahead and in, to be greeted with angry affection by a woman ’ s voice: “ There you are at last, Sarey. Where in the world have you been? Oh— ” She looked up from the child and saw Kate in the doorway. “ Mrs. Croston? You found her? I hoped you must have. ”
    “ Yes—Mrs. Peters, is it? ” She liked the looks of this tall, calm-faced woman. “ I ’ m so sorry if we ’ ve frightened you. Sarah took me for a walk along the river. I hoped you ’ d realize ... ”
    “ Took you for a walk, did she? A stranger? ” Mrs. Peters digested this for a moment. “ Well, I do declare; wonders will never cease. Anyways, I reckon you was dead to rights to go, in that case, and if you won ’ t mind my saying so. She don ’ t often take a shiner to strangers, not our Sarey. ”
    “ She ’ s very quick to understand—aren ’ t you, Sarah? ” Every instinct in Kate rebelled at this discussion of the child in her presence as if she had been negligible, a thin g.
    “ But she won ’ t speak, will you, love? That ’ s what makes her ma so mad. Pure orneriness, Mrs. Penrose calls it, and I don ’ t know what else. But she ’ s gone out to lunch now, Sarey-lamb, clear into Boston, and there ’ s no one here but me and Prue—and she ’ s out back doing the washing—so come get your breakfast, there ’ s a good girl, and you too, Mrs. Croston. I ’ m mortal sorry I wasn ’ t about when you came down, but we were all at sixes and sevens looking for the child. Job thought he ’ d seen her going out the front way, see, so we