The Witch of Blackbird Pond / Ведьма с пруда Черных Дроздов. 10-11 классы

“I didn’t know,” replied Kit. “Poor Aunt Rachel!”

“And there was another boy, after Judith,” Mercy continued. “Father was so proud of him. But he lived only a week. Mother said it was the will of God. Well, of course that was a long time ago, but after that Father changed. And it has been so difficult to manage all this work without a son. That’s all she meant, Kit.”

Kit was silent. “From now on I should try to understand my uncle better,” she decided.

Chapter Nine

Mercy and Kit started teaching the school together. Mercy was patiently instructing beginners, while Kit was struggling with the elementary readers. The verses they tried to read were as boring and monotonous as church sermons. Kit’s Grandfather would never have let her read that! If only she could remember how her grandfather had taught her to read the words! He probably had made his own lessons, and now she decided to follow his example. Kit took a quill pen and wrote something. Then she gave it to read to young Timothy Cook. “Timothy Cook jumped over the brook,” he read with surprise. The other children giggled and then looked at their teacher with amazement.

Kit didn’t know that her methods were new and surprising. She only knew that the ten days since the school’s beginning had been the best she had had in Connecticut. She and the children had liked each other. The children brought her berries and flowers and wanted to sit next to her. There were eleven of them, eight small boys and three girls. It was difficult to keep those little kids interested for four long hours. Mercy used her patience, while Kit used some tricks. “You have all done very well this morning,” she would say at the end of their reading session. “Now I will tell you a story.”

At first, Mercy worried about this activity, but Kit could see nothing wrong in it. If only she had more stories to read to them! Now she had only the Bible, from which she chose the stories she liked best. Today she chose the story of the Good Samaritan. “One man,” she began, “went from Jerusalem to Jericho…” Suddenly, she had an idea. “You all know this story, don’t you?” she asked the children. They nodded. “Then let’s pretend that it is happening, right now, to us. You, Peter, will be the man traveling along the road. And three of you can be the robbers then. Martha and Eliza, you can be the priest and the Levite, who pass the man by. And Jonathan can be the Good Samaritan who helps him.”

The children were excited. They took their places and started acting, but soon the game became a little messy and loud. Both Kit and Mercy acted quickly, but not quickly enough.

Two tall figures were standing in the kitchen doorway. The sudden use of the stick brought silence and order into the room. Kit and Mercy saw their two visitors: Mr. Kimberley, the schoolmaster, and the Reverend John Woodbridge.

“What is this?” asked Mr. Kimberley angrily. “We’ve come to inspect your school, Mistress Wood, and what do we see?”

Mercy tried to explain, but Kit was first. “It is my fault, sir. I was reading a story to them from the Bible, and I thought that it might be more interesting to act it, like a play, you know.”

“To act it? The Bible?” Reverend Woodbridge stared at Mercy. “What were you thinking, Mercy, allowing such a thing?”

“I didn’t realize what we were doing, sir,” she whispered.

“I am shocked and disappointed,” Mr. Kimberley said. “The school is dismissed. Go home, boys and girls. Do not come back tomorrow. We will let you know if the school will continue.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Kimberley,” begged Kit. “You can’t dismiss the school because of what I did. Dismiss me, if you like.”

“We will have to decide if Mercy is responsible enough to continue teaching the school,” Mr. Kimberley said coldly. “But you are dismissed, young lady.”

When the men had gone, two tears ran slowly down Mercy’s cheeks. To see her tears was more than Kit could bear. In a panic she ran out the door and down the road, past the Meeting House, past the houses where her pupils lived. She didn’t care where she was going.

Kit stopped only when she reached the Great Meadow. There, without thinking she walked into a field and fell in the grass, crying. When she had finally stopped crying, she lay for a long time too tired to move or think. Maybe she even slept a little, but now she opened her eyes and looked up at the blue sky. The sun was shining, and the grass moved slightly in the wind. Suddenly, Kit knew that she was not alone there, and that someone was very close. She got up. Only a few feet away a woman was sitting and watching her, a very old woman with short white hair, colorless eyes and a wrinkled face. As Kit looked at her, the old woman spoke in a quiet voice, “You did well, child, to come to the Meadow. There is always a cure here when the heart is troubled. I know because I’ve found it myself. That is why I live here.”

Kit didn’t move, but stared in horror. She understood that this was the strange woman from Blackbird Pond – Hannah Tupper, the witch! Kit noticed a scar on the woman’s forehead. Was it the devil’s mark?

“People wonder why I want to live here, so close to the swamp,” the woman continued. “But I think you know why. I can see it in your face. The Meadows have spoken to you, too.”

The cold feeling began to pass away. “I didn’t plan to come here,” Kit explained. “I always wanted to come back, but this morning I just got here by accident.”

Hannah Tupper shook her head. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Come, and I’ll give you something to eat.”

“I must go back,” Kit said quickly. “My family must have been looking for me.”

The woman looked at her and smiled. “You still look upset. Whatever it is, you can deal with it better with a bit of food inside. Come with me; it’s not far at all.”

Kit paused. She was suddenly hungry, but more than that, she was curious. Whatever this strange little woman might be, she was definitely harmless and even pleasant. On impulse, Kit hurried after her toward the little hut. Although it was quite late, she didn’t want to return to her Uncle Matthew’s house.

Inside the little house there was a table, a chest, a bed and a spinning wheel at the window. A huge yellow cat opened one eye to look at Kit. On the table Hannah put a small corn cake with blueberries and a jug with yellow goat’s milk. She sat watching as Kit ate, taking nothing herself. Probably, Kit thought, too late, that was all she had! The girl looked about the room. “This is a pretty room,” she said.

Hannah nodded. “My Thomas built this house. He made it good, so it has stood all these years.”