Free Delivering the Truth by Edith Maxwell Page A

him to the parlor door.
    In the front hallway, Matthew sat on the floor reading. Mark sat beside him, his hands on raised knees, looking like a copy of his twin, except a towheaded one. He wore the police hat tilted back on his head. When they saw the adults, they both jumped up.
    â€œI want to be police, too,” Mark said. He extended the hat to Kevin with a hopeful smile.
    â€œI’m glad of it, young man. What’s your name, now?”
    â€œMark, sir.”
    â€œI’m studying, Mr. Detective.” Matthew held up his schoolbook, McGuffey’s Third Reader , with eyes wide. “Just like thee said to do. I memorized my work for tomorrow. Want to hear?”
    Kevin nodded in all seriousness.
    â€œIt’s called ‘The Blacksmith.’” Matthew set his feet straight with each other and clasped his hands behind his back. He screwed his face into concentration, gazing beyond Kevin at the glass doorknob. “‘Clink, clink, clinkerty clink.’” His head bobbed the rhythm of the poem. “‘We begin to hammer at morning’s blink, and hammer away ‘til the busy day, like us, aweary, to rest shall sink.’” Matthew looked at Kevin, mouth open to go on.
    The detective held up a hand. “That’s perfect, laddy. Keep it up, now. Both of ye.”
    I showed Kevin to the outer door. “I thank thee for the attention to the boys. They are much impressed.”
    He waved off my thanks, trotting down the front steps and walking with a purposeful stride along the path back toward Market Square and the business of the town.
    I turned back to the boys. “Taking a job with the police department isn’t quite in line with Friends’ holding with peace, boys.” I folded my arms in mock chastisement.
    â€œBut Auntie Rose …” Matthew entreated.
    â€œAnd don’t the police need some peaceful officers?” Mark asked with a knit brow.
    Amused, I ruffled his light hair. “I dare say they do.”

    David handed me up into his buggy at the appointed hour.
    â€œI thank thee.” I sat and gathered my best cloak around me with nervous hands. As I had watched Kevin disappear around the corner onto High Street an hour earlier, I’d remembered about the smudge on Ephraim Pickard’s shirt. I should have told Kevin about my visit to Ephraim, but I had been so disarmed by his request for help that I had completely forgotten to relate Ephraim’s behavior and the condition of his shirt.
    David went around and sat in the driver’s seat. He smiled at me, handing over a plaid lap blanket. “You look beautiful, Rose.”
    â€œThee is most kind,” I said with a voice that quavered. I cleared my throat to try to master my anxiety. I knew I wasn’t any great beauty, but had been reasonably satisfied with my examination in the mirror a few moments earlier. Faith had helped me arrange my dark hair, even adding a curl to the side of my brow, although I thought my eyeglasses somewhat spoiled the look. My deep red best dress was plain but was fairly recently sewn, so at least it was tailored in something like the current fashion, with the new covered buttons and slimmer profile. Mother had tatted the lace collar only last year and I had made sure it was freshly laundered and starched this afternoon. I was glad I’d only worn my everyday cloak to Meeting this morning, as it was now singed and imbued with smoke from Stephen’s fire. It was my nerves that weren’t satisfied.
    â€œI hope I’ll be able to eat something. I’m nervous about meeting thy mother.”
    â€œShe won’t eat you alive, I promise.” He clucked to the horse, who set off down the road.
    I silently repeated the names he’d told me. Chase and Currier were as well-known and prosperous families as the Dodges. What was I getting myself into? A voice inside told me I didn’t deserve these people. Or David’s