Free At the Sign of the Star by Katherine Sturtevant Page B

were there: stout, loud, red-faced boys of fourteen and thirteen who talked mainly to each other, teasing one another with riddles or setting puzzles in arithmetic.
    After dinner, when the last comfits were eaten, we all stood in a ring in the largest parlor and played Hunt-the-Slipper. Anne and I were next to one another, and passed the slipper slyly along behind our backs while Susannah sought for it, but at last she found it when it came to little Jenny who forgot what she was to do. Then it was Jenny’s turn, but Anne came into the center of the ring with her and they hunted together for the slipper. There was much laughter, and I saw why Anne so enjoyed being part of a large family. At last, however, the children tired, and began to quarrel, and so were sent away. Then Anne and I were at liberty to talk once more.
    â€œIt has been such fun to have you here,” she said to me. “I seldom see other girls, for Mother says there are quite enough of us without inviting yet more children into the house.” I opened my mouth to say something pretty in reply, but she went on, “Sometimes I am afraid I will be married young, simply because there are too many of us at home.”
    â€œI’m sure you need not think of it yet,” I said to comfort her.
    â€œI know, I know! I am too young to think of it, my mother is always saying so. And yet, they think of it. I hear them when they think I am abed or busy with my needle, speaking of this merchant or that. There are so many of us, you know, and so many girls. I haven’t the dowry I’d like, and as you see I am not beautiful.”
    She did not look at me as she spoke, and though her voice was matter-of-fact, I could tell that her scarred face troubled her. I wondered how old she had been when it happened.
    â€œSo,” she continued in a bright, false voice. “They will pick someone old, who will take my youth as a marriage portion.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said.
    Her smile faded. Then she said, very seriously, “Perhaps I will be lucky, like Susannah, who married your father.”
    At that moment my father came into the room with his bride on his arm. His cheeks were red from port, and his smile was broad as he turned to Susannah. I looked at her, and saw that her smile was not so broad. I wondered for the first time if she had wanted him, or if she merely did her duty.
    3
    One day at breakfast time Susannah said to my father, “You can spare me from the shop, can you not? I had thought to take Margaret to the New Spring Garden at Vauxhall today.”
    â€œCannot—” I said quickly, and then stopped myself. I meant to say, “Cannot Joan go with you instead?” For I did not want to wander among bushes when I might be in the shop with my father. But I dared not speak my thoughts. I looked down at my breakfast platter, which that morning bore buttered bread and oysters. “Might Anne Gosse come with us?” I asked with little hope.
    â€œNo doubt Anne is needed to help her mother,” my father replied. “Theirs is a busy household.”
    â€œIt will not hurt to ask,” Susannah said. “We will send Godfrey with a message. It will give Mrs. Gosse kind feelings toward us, even if she cannot spare Anne.” She began to speak of the beauties of Vauxhall, but she could not interest me. I did not want to go there, unless indeed Anne could come with us, but that seemed scarcely likely.
    However, the stars must have been well aligned for me that day, for Anne’s mother let her go with us after all, and suddenly, instead of feeling cross, I felt alive with my good luck. Anne was as excited as I. There were four of us in the boat that took us down the Thames, for Joan came as well, of course. I have always loved the river, and had not been upon it for more than a year, so I settled myself happily next to Anne and watched the man at the oars with rapt attention. His muscles flexed