leftover bean porridge was warming in the pot over the fire. Its heady smell filled the room, and a rosy glow from the fire encircled them all.
The warmth of the scene was brought to a halt by a loud banging on the door. Aunt Elizabeth nodded to Dorothy, who hurried to open the door. Abigail prayed the caller was not someone with bad news.
But the person standing out in the misty evening was Grandpappy. He entered, shaking droplets fromhis cloak and hat. Tiny beads of moisture had gathered in his bushy brows.
“Pray tell, where were the likes of you following the service?” he asked everyone.
His eyes fell on Abigail. “Especially you, young lady. You escaped your just punishment today, for which I will pay most dearly, and you should have had the graciousness to be beside me when the elders came to criticize me.”
Grandpappy suddenly stopped. An understanding came into his eyes as he realized that Mama and Papa were not there.
“Where’s Francis?” he asked, his voice low and worried.
Aunt Elizabeth bit her lower lip.
“Off having a fit,” Paul said, scowling.
“Ah, no,” Grandpappy said. He walked over and sank onto a stool by the fire. “This cannot be happening again, not now.”
He glanced at Aunt Elizabeth. “Tell me quickly, child. What brought it on this time?”
Aunt Elizabeth shrugged. “I know not, Father. It happened early at breakfast when I was at my own home with Daniel.”
Grandpappy’s eyes lit on Abigail. “Were you here?”
Abigail nodded. “I was, but I had slept late. At breakfast, Papa was already ill.”
Grandpappy’s eyebrows drew together. “Slept late? On the Sabbath? My daughter spoils you, Abigail.”
He then turned to Paul. “Were you witness to your father’s decline this morning?”
“No,” Paul said quickly.
“He was out chasing a badger,” Franny interjected.
“On the Sabbath?” Grandpappy said, his eyes darkening.
“He’s been in the fields, tearing everything up,” Paul defended himself. “I had a chance to finally get him. I couldn’t just let him go.”
Grandpappy looked skeptically at Paul, who blushed.
“I was here, Grandpappy,” Dorothy spoke up. “Papa’s sickness came about when Mama began to speak of Abigail and what she would face this morning, urging Papa to let her sleep. Papa agreed at first, but then he began to mumble that someone might punish him for letting her sleep. That was when he started his mutterings.”
Abigail stopped stirring the porridge. She was nolonger hungry, now that she realized her actions might have brought about her father’s fit.
Grandpappy sighed. “Where are they now?”
“Daniel has gone to search them out,” Aunt Elizabeth responded.
“Bring me a drink, Elizabeth,” Grandpappy bade her. “I will wait here with you for news. ‘Tis not good that this illness is upon Francis again. It could come at no worse time.”
“Grandpappy,” Dorothy said, coming close to him, “what caused you to speak as you did today at the Sabbath service, and to avoid talking about Abigail?”
Grandpappy gazed into the fire. “If more important matters did not need to be talked about, your sister would have suffered the full force of my wrath. But there are greater issues that have come to my attention of late.” He paused. “I fear your father’s illness will be linked to these matters if we are not careful.”
He looked up at the family, his eyes troubled. “Say naught of this fit to anyone. Let us hope that Francis has done nothing to draw attention to his illness this time, and that the night watch does notsee them out and about. Let us pray that Daniel finds them safely and brings them back quietly.”
Aunt Elizabeth brought him a warm mug of cider. “Of what are you so fearful, Father?”
Grandpappy shook his head. “News has come that the devil has been discovered in Salem Village. They are uncovering witches there at a furious pace.”
Abigail drew in her breath. The devil in Salem