running in and out of the house with plates and forks, a platter of fried fish, a bowl of boiled carrots.
“Thanks, Missus,” Cornelius whispered, whereupon Natty walked over to him, took a carrot from his plate, and patted his cheek. Oliver grinned and between bites said,
“I’m going to fetch Easter.”
“Could you look for a raspberry bush on the way?”
Polly asked.
“’Sberry?” chirped Natty.
“If there’s a berry to be had, you’ll have it,” Oliver promised as he set off.
“Don’t you worry, Mr. Cornelius,” said Polly, as she cleared the dishes. “Easter will know what to do. I expect you’ll sleep better tonight.”
Cornelius doubted that. Even if Easter had magic at her command and could get him dancing a jig by morning, his prospects would keep him awake. He’d lost both his job and his home.
He was so occupied by these unhappy considerations that Easter’s face was a few inches from his own before he realized she’d arrived. “Cornelius Finson, as I live and breathe,” she proclaimed. “I ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.
Not that you were ever much of a visitor. Now let me have a look at what you’ve done to yourself.”
She removed the cloth from his knee. “Ugly,” she grimaced. “I’ll wager it was paining you even before you took that fall. And what were you doing out on that road so early
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in the day, my good man?” she teased. “A city fellow like yourself, though Oliver here tells me that I might be seeing more of you up in Dogtown soon. I believe Charity Somes may be the worst-named woman I never did like.”
Oliver gave Cornelius a sheepish look, embarrassed that he’d told Easter all of his business.
“I’ll do what I can with what I brought,” she said.
“Polly, could you fetch me some boilt water for this roasted sorrel? We’ll let it steep awhile. It makes a nice poultice when it’s cooled; helps with lameness sometimes, not that it’s going to fix this mess. Not by itself.”
She got up and headed for the door, calling, “Polly!
I need a cup of cider, too. I know you don’t have any ale, though I keep telling you it’s good for the milk. And how is your milk coming these days? Is that pretty baby fattening up?”
Oliver grinned. “She’s a lot of noise, isn’t she?”
Cornelius nodded.
“Then again,” Oliver muttered to himself as he followed Easter inside, “between the two of you, it works out.”
Easter applied the poultice, laying the soggy leaves so that none of them crossed. Then she wrapped the pile of it with a bandage made of stained and raveled muslin. “Does it hurt?” she asked. When Cornelius shook his head, she tightened the bandages until they were just about too snug for comfort.
“That’s all for now,” Easter said. “I’ll be back with something else. Root of water lily might do for the swelling.
I wager that fancy Dr. Beech in town would stick his little knives into it.” She put her finger up beside her nose and said, “There’s the real witchcraft, if you ask me. I don’t care
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