Chapter 44

After, when I was helping her to bed, I took courage to say— “Did you tell Weaver I was hare-shotten?” “No, no, my dear! What for should I do that?” “Only he met be thinking of me a bit, seeing you said such things, and then if he met me ever—” “Well, my dear, if he met you, and he’s the man I think him, he’d be bound to like you right well,” says Mother roundly. When I’d tucked her in, she catched my hand. “Prue, should you care if he’d got but one leg, or one arm, or was all pitted with the smallpox?” “Care, Moth…