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Show Page 91 "I have a thought," I said then. "I have not yet seen Rose, and the Howes live not far from these woods. What say you to taking her one of your fine hares?" Twig chewed on his lower lip for a moment. Then he swabbed at a runnel of sweat trickling down his cheek and nodded. "I have yet to meet Mistress Howe, so I shall go. But I hope we will not see Master Howe. He looked much like a cattail gone to seed." "That is not a kind thing to say," I protested. "It is not only his looks I do not like," Twig said. "I do not like the way he walks about, all hunched and shivery-looking." "He does have a downtrodden look about him," I agreed, remembering. I banked the fire carefully, for there had been little rain that summer, and we set off through the trees. "Hallo-o-o," I called out when the house came into sight Opening the palisade gate, we stepped through. Edward stood with his back to us, hoeing a scraggly garden. Rose sat on the doorstep, a pigeon in her lap. She pierced the bird's lower eyelid, inserted a thread and drew the lid up and over the eye, tying it to keep the eye closed. Only then did she look up. "Can't stand to do this, Edward can't. But somebody's |