Jane-Emily by Patricia Clapp

Author:Patricia Clapp
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061745546
Publisher: HarperCollins

her woolen petticoats twitching as she walked. “Every day is like the day before! The same chores, the same food, the same people! If I could trance myself I would go to someplace exciting! Not just beautiful, like where Betty says she goes, but someplace where things would happen to me!”

Betty’s brow wrinkled. “What sort of things, Abby? What do you wish would happen to you?”

Abby picked up a sliver of carrot from the table and crunched it between her white little teeth.

“Oh, who can say, Betty? But you know how sometimes in church meeting Uncle Samuel talks about the Devil and his works and how he lures people to do his bidding? And about the flames in Hell? And all the torments of the damned? That is what I like to listen to! That is exciting!”

Betty gasped. “Oh, Abby! Father just tells us such things to warn us. He does not want us to sin, for then we could not go to Heaven!”

Abigail lifted the paring knife from the table and flipped it so that it landed point down in the wood, the handle quivering.

“I think Heaven must be just like Salem Village,” she said. “Everyone so good, and so pure. I become very weary of all the Thou shalts and Thou shalt nots! Someday I am going to do something shocking!”

I was amused. “What shocking thing will you do, Abby?”

“Oh, like—like—like screaming right out loud in Sabbath meeting! Just as loud as I can!”

I laughed, but poor little Betty looked distressed. “Abby! You wouldn’t!”

Abigail’s chin rose stubbornly. “Be not too sure, Betty Parris. For I feel at times that unless I do something shocking, I may blow like the cider jug and splash the whole village!”

Looking at her glittering eyes and her flushed face, I felt a certain sympathy for her. There were many times when I, too, secretly rebelled against the rigid behavior imposed on us.

I tried to sound more grown-up than I felt. “’Twill be better when you are older, Abby,” I said. “I recall when I was your age, feeling that I would burst could I not shout, or run, or let my hair fly loose in the wind—but ’twill be easier soon. You will grow out of it.”

Abigail eyed me closely, doubt written clear on her face. “Have you?” she asked.

I could not meet her gaze. I rose from my seat and moved to where my cloak and shawls hung. With my back to her I spoke calmly.

“Of course,” I said. And knew I lied.

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