Free Becoming Americans by Donald Batchelor Page B

giggles as the benches were filled by people returning to the seats they'd held the day before.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Anne Biggs entered with her grandfather and grandmother and with Francis and Edward Harper. No one seemed to notice him, and Richard was relieved to be spared the looks of recrimination, especially from Anne.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â The minister entered in procession and began the service. Soon there were muffled snores about the room. Two babies cried, awaiting their baptismal services. Richard's thoughts lamented his own fate except when his eyes drifted to Anne and her family.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â For the first time he noticed a stranger sitting on the bench with the Ware family and the Harpers. He was an old man for Virginia, maybe fifty. His clothes were fine and expensive, though dated. His doublet was high-waisted and tied with a wide sash; the sleeves were deeply slashed for a protruding shirt. Richard could see long, narrow breeches—far below the knees— that were fastened with visible buttons. His collar and his cuffs were edged with plain lace. Strangest of all, the man looked oddly familiar. So much so, that Richard's attention was briefly diverted from Anne and his own problems.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What are these which are arrayed in white robes? And whence came they?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â The minister read the Epistle of All Saints' Day and Richard again became self-conscious of his suit.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "Who is the boy arrayed in the blue suit? And whence came he?" Richard knew what they were thinking. He caught a side-glance from Anne, and he thought he saw his friend Edward smiling.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â The services were brief. The congregation and the minister shared the morning-after pain, and Reverend Cole was eager to anoint the babes and collect his fees in rich, sweet-scented pounds.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â The procession left the church. The congregation again filed out as Richard felt their stares. He waited until Francis Harper came and led him in silence to a row of men seated on a bench beneath an ancient, spreading oak. The minister and Mister Ware sat with three other men, one of them the stranger Richard had noticed with the family. He knew these men were of the vestry and they were waiting to consider his actions and to decide his fate.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Harper was the first to speak. His shame for the misdeeds of his servant was profound. His shame was doubled, he told the men, for he bore the humiliation that his wife—God rest her soul—would have felt. She, in whose memory the Reverend Cole would offer words on the morrow, All Souls' Day.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "May she rest in peace," said the minister.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "God rest her," said Mister Ware.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "God rest her soul," said Richard.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "My servant has done grievous damage to the fortune of Mister Ware, to whom we are so greatly indebted."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Francis Harper was interrupted.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "The facts are these, gentlemen and Reverend Cole," Mister Ware began. "Upon returning from our day of worship and communion yesterday, we found the lad—drunk to the gills with rum—beside some broken hogsheads of my sweetscented. Hoop brads had been sundered, and the casks expelled their contents onto the floor of my shed."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "The brads were faulty!" Richard surprised himself with his explosive selfdefense.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "Quiet, Boy!" said Reverend Cole. "And how came you to be wearing such apparel? Your arrogance and your vanity are condemnatory in themselves!"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "He came by both traits honestly." The stranger with Mister Ware spoke. "They were traits of his father."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â "Sir!" Richard protested with shock and heat. He crossed himself and reached for his