Chapter 14

“Now hush your gabble,” said Missis Beguildy, pulling the feathers out of the fowl in handfuls, so that the room was like a snowstorm. “Did you hear tell, Prue, as poor John Weaver strayed off the road going through the woods in the dark of the moon last night, and was drownded in Blackmere? Death’s very catching, poor soul.” “Why, it wanted but an hour to dawn when he left,” I said. “Time enow, time enow. It’s dark as Egypt in the woods down yonder.” “Who’ll take his place?” “They seyn there’s a nephew learning th…