At the Sign of the Star by Katherine Sturtevant Read Free Book Online Page B

those with stinking breath.”
    She did not speak but her face filled up with red. I made my own face as innocent as I could. “Have I offended you? I thought I heard my father say—”
    â€œGet out of here.”
    â€œI am waiting for my father.”
    â€œGet out. Go to your room. I do not want you before me.”
    â€œIt also kills worms within the body. It helps with palsy. It is a cure for barrenness.”
    She stood, holding her book in her hand. Although twice my age, she was not greatly larger than myself, for I was a big girl and she a small woman. But I did not wish to be struck, so I rose myself. “I think I will find Hester,” I said, and left the room, carrying The Queen-like Closet under my arm.
    In the weeks that followed I was most obedient to my stepmother, attending to her carefully as she taught me to boil pigeons, to make Dr. Butler’s treacle water, to make perfume of roses, to candy violets or gillyflowers. But when no one else was by I gave her many suggestions for remedies she needed not.
    â€œMrs. Woolley has an excellent surfeit-water which she says will help you with that farting.”
    â€œThere is a fine remedy here which helps remove the pits of smallpox from your face—have you tried it?”
    Each time I insulted her she sent me away, and each time I found Hester, and jested with her as we used to do.
    When first I began these assaults upon Susannah I worried that she would bear tales to my father, and wondered how I would face him if his ire were roused. But soon I saw that she would not own to him that she could not manage me. And because she did not bear tales about me to my father, I thought that I was safe, and that I would remain so forever. However, I was wrong.
    We had spent the morning in the kitchen, making a gooseberry fool to have for dessert that day. Susannah was in a fine humor; I believe she did not correct me once. When I spilled the rosewater she said it did not matter, and when she dropped a wooden plate she laughed at herself, and said she was not fit to be my teacher. Almost we had fun together. But I did not want to have fun with the one who was taking my inheritance from me.
    And so, as we dusted ourselves clean, I said to her, “I see you have got the ink spots out of your linen apron.”
    Because we had laughed together, she was not on guard against me, as she should have been. Instead, she looked surprised, and said, “There were no ink spots.”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry. It was a natural mistake. Mrs. Woolley says ink spots on linen must be soaked in urine, so when I smelled you of course I thought…”
    I had seen her angry with me before, but now she was not angry. Tears came to her eyes, and she turned from me.
    â€œI must find Hester,” I said, for I felt bad, and wanted to be away from the mischief I’d done.
    â€œHester,” she repeated. “It is Hester who puts it into your head to say such things.”
    I was alarmed. “No, Mother, it is all my own thinking. I would not dare to speak so if Hester were near, do not beat her, please. Beat me, if you must.”
    But she went from the kitchen without looking at me again.
    Then truly I ran to find Hester, to warn her. She scolded me when she heard what I had said, and hit at me, but I ducked back as she knew I would. Then we waited, but we heard nothing from my stepmother the rest of that day. In the shop she was cool to me, but she was often that.
    The days passed. I learned to pickle cucumbers, and to preserve raspberries, and to make a trifle. I dared not make more sharp remarks to my mother, but I began to be very clumsy in the kitchen, spilling often, or measuring the wrong portions, or seeming stupid when she knew I was not.
    Then, one evening after supper, my father called Hester to him, and when she came out of the parlor her face was white.
    â€œWhat is it?” I cried, running to her, for I had been waiting on