Strange Devices of the Sun and Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

not wanting to wake it. Almost she made the sign of the cross, the way her mother used to do when she was frightened or startled. It stirred and opened its eyes. They were a clear brown, like cow dung, and somehow strangely comforting. “Ho!” it said. “Wood and rock, what a night we had together in the fields. I met a screech owl coming home—”
    Hearing it speak brought her out of her daze. She should run, get help, call George or Edward. But her movement seemed to frighten it, as if it suddenly recalled who and what she was. It curled back toward the hearth, trying to hide. Amazed at the thought that it might be as fearful as she was she stopped and held out her hand. “Are you the one I should thank for the labor done here?”
    â€œNo,” it said.
    The old women in her village had told stories of such a creature, she remembered now. It would come into your home and do your work, milk your cows and churn your butter, but on no account should you thank it. If you did it would leave.
    She nodded to it, trying to be matter-of-fact. “Good day to you then,” she said, and turned and left. The old women had called the man a brownie. They had been wise, but Alice thought she had a friend who was wiser. She would have to seek out Margery and tell her what happened: it had been too long since her last visit.
    As she went from her house to the churchyard she smiled to think of her friend. Margery wore a ring on every finger, each with a different jewel, and had a drop of stone at her ear, like a man’s, and her long black hair was unfettered by any cap. She lived in a crowded cottage out beyond the city walls. Inside the cottage a fine patina of cat fur lay over everything, and the smell of tobacco smoke hung in the air, for Margery also smoked like a man. Aye, certainly Margery would know what to do.
    Paul’s was filled with people as always, but at noon the crowd emptied out to hear a proclamation read on Cheapside Street. She closed her stall and went over to talk to George. “Care to take your dinner with me?” he asked.
    â€œOf course,” she said.
    As they walked together she wondered if she should tell George about the brownie. But before she could decide he said, “I have something important to ask you.”
    â€œAye?”
    They reached the cookshop and he directed her to one of the tables. She could not remember ever seeing him so solemn.
    â€œI have given much thought to what I am about to say,” he said as they sat down. “As I have told you, I do not believe it is right for a woman to live alone. And I care for you, Alice, and will always wish you well. I wonder if—well—if you would marry me.”
    â€œMarry?”
    â€œAye. Is it such a surprise, then? I had thought we were friends.”
    â€œAye, we are. But marriage … I had not looked to marry again.”
    â€œTruly, I believe you could do no better than to marry me, immodest though it sounds to say it. We have known each other a long time, and I believe our shops would thrive together. You have certain copyrights, and the monopoly on the playbills—Do you think I speak in jest, then?” he asked, for she had started to laugh.
    â€œOh, George,” she said. “My dear, sweet friend George. I am sorry, but you make it sound so much like a trade agreement.”
    â€œAye, and so it is, partly. I don’t like to see you struggling for want of knowledge of the stationer’s craft. It is as I have said—I care for you. By marrying you I can watch over you, I can see that you have everything you need.”
    â€œI’m sorry, George. But I do not think that I am ready to marry.”
    â€œYou needn’t give me an answer so soon. I know you will have to think about it. When you are ready—”
    â€œI have told you—I’m not ready to marry again. But I thank you very much for your concern.”
    He moved back a little,