Читать книгу Ye Lyttle Salem Maide. A Story of Witchcraft онлайн

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But the brightness of the day could not lighten the hearts of the villagers, depressed by the terrible witch-trials.

Master Wentworth, however, maintained a certain peace in his home, which, lying on the outskirts of the town, was just beyond the circle of village gossip. Moreover, he sternly checked any tendency in Goodwife Higgins or Deliverance to comment on the panic that was abroad. So of all the homes in Salem his little household knew the deepest peace on the morn of that memorable Sabbath.

“Goodwife,” he said, passing his cup for a third serving of tea, “your Sabbath face is full as bonny a thing to look at and warms the heart, as much as your tea and muffins console an empty stomach.”

And the goodwife replied with some asperity to conceal her pleasure at the remark, for, being comely, she delighted to be assured of the fact, “Ay, the cook’s face be bonny, and the tea be well brewed. Ye have a flattering tongue, Master Wentworth.”

Then Master Wentworth, stirring his tea which had a sweetening of molasses, related how, having once had a chest of tea sent him from old England, he had portioned part of it among his neighbours. The goodwives, being ignorant of its use, had boiled it well and flung the water away. But the leaves they kept and seasoned as greens.