Free Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson Page A

hadn’t reckoned on Call. Call who snorted and almost yelled, “Seventh? Seventh? Seventh don’t have neither to do with hammering on Sunday. Seventh’s the one,” he stopped, suddenly embarrassed and lowered his voice, “on adultery.”
    â€œAdultery?” The Captain started laughing out loud. “Well, I’m too old to worry about that one. Now there was a time—” He grinned mischievously. I suspect Call wanted him to go on as much as I did, but the old man stopped right there. Like offering candy to a child and then yanking backyour hand with some excuse about saving his teeth, I thought.
    â€œToday is Tuesday,” Call said as we started for the house.
    â€œTuesday! Then—then—” the Captain seemed terribly excited. “Then tomorrow is Wednesday, and after that comes Thursday! Friday! Saturday! Sunday! And Monday!!”
    I thought Call would die laughing on the spot, but he managed to control himself enough to gasp, “Get it, Wheeze? Get it?”
    If I couldn’t smile at “Wheeze and Cough,” how was I to force a laugh at a recitation of the days of the week?
    â€œDon’t mind her, Captain. She don’t catch on too good.”
    â€œToo well.” At least I could demonstrate proper grammar. “Too well.”
    â€œToo well. Too well,” repeated the Captain chirpily, lifting his hand to his ear. “Hark? Do I hear the mating call of a feathered friend of the marsh-land?”
    Call, naturally, collapsed. All I could think of was if we’d netted a spy like this, Franklin D. Roosevelt would have thrown him back. Good heavens.
    Eventually, Call recovered from his hysterics enough to explain to the Captain that since it was Tuesday and not yet suppertime, he and I would be glad to lend a hand fixing up the old dock or house or whatever else the Captain might want doing around the place. In fact, Call added, we could come at about this time every afternoon, except Sunday of course, and help out.
    â€œI’d want to pay you something,” the Captain said. My ears stretched practically to the top of my head, and I opened my mouth to utter a humble thanks.
    â€œOh, no ,” said Call. “We couldn’t think of taking money from a neighbor.”
    Who couldn’t? But for once in his life Call talked faster than I could think, and the two of them snatched away my time and energy and sold me into slavery before I had breath to hint that I wouldn’t be insulted by a small tip every now and then.
    That was how we came to spend two hours every afternoon slaving for the Captain. I noticed grimly that he didn’t mind at all ordering us around, even though we were supposed to be doing him a favor. We didn’t have our tea break after the first week because tin was becoming scarce and the Captainwas short on canned milk. And, as he explained, since he could no longer offer Call milk, it would have been mean for the two of us to stop for tea. I would have been glad to stop for any excuse, even that awful tea. When you’re fourteen and your body is changing as mine was that summer, you just plain get tired, but I couldn’t admit it. Both Call and the Captain seemed to regard me as mentally deficient, since I couldn’t appreciate their marvelous humor. I couldn’t let them make fun of me physically as well.
    Nothing went right for me that summer, unless you count the fact that when my periods began, almost a year after Caroline’s of course, they began on a Sunday morning before I left the house for church instead of after, but the stain went clear through my pants and slip to my only good dress. Momma let me pretend to be sick. What else could she do? I couldn’t wash and dry my dress in time for Sunday school.
    My grandmother kept saying things like “What’s the matter with her? She don’t look sick to me. Just don’t want to worship the Lord.” And “If