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Show Page 98 "Either the maid has an uncommonly high opinion of herself or a witty mind," John said, his voice quiet. "I must be witty then, for I try not to hold myself above another," I replied pointedly, my tone again serious, scarce able to draw breath. I was relieved to see that John took my meaning, for his face crinkled into a grin. Anne was looking from one of us to the other, her brows gathered in a perplexed wrinkle. Then she shook her head and rose from her stool. "I insist you both stay for the evening meal," she said. "Cisly caught some fine eels this morning. I shall boil them for our supper. Perhaps I can even spare some of my precious spices to add to the pot. What say you, Sarah? Will you stay? John will be happy to see you home should the darkness fall before you leave." That thought put my feelings in a turmoil! Yet how could I refuse? Nodding, I stood to help Anne with the meal. The door closed behind us, leaving only the moonlight to silver our path. We walked in silence for a time, hearing the bellow of the frogs, the hup-hup, oho-oho of the horned owl. "Some folk think the horned owl is Indians calling to each other in the night," said John at last. "And are they correct?" |
