A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,24

a track increasingly muddied and marked by horses.

“The ice harvest has become a favorite day for us,” Charlotte agreed.

“Please tell me something of the village. I rarely have time to visit, and it's been too long since I saw many of my acquaintance. Hannah mentioned unmarried daughters at home. What of her sons? Are they married?”

“One of three lives in Concord now—he's expected to wed soon. The eldest brother is in Lexington, learning a trade with a cousin. Martha seems to have made her choice, but the others are still waiting.”

“Mr. Rowe tells me you've taken one of Cyrus Wainwright's children into your own home.”

“Lem is a great help—especially in the work of the dairy.”

“A promising boy, is he?”

“Interested in scientific studies, as well as husbandry.”

“Your brother's farm seems well cared for, while he's abroad.”

“I hope so.”

“Where is Jeremy now?”

“In Geneva. He's become secretary to a banker. He managed to visit us this spring, and said he approved of what we've done—but with only two mouths to feed, it's not difficult.”

“No?” Moses Reed replied with a squint. “A good many I come upon these days seem to find it hard to survive. But let me see… what has become of my old neighbors, the Bigelows?”

“Jonah suffers from a permanent congestion of the lungs, as you'll probably remember. But it hasn't yet proven to be consumptive.”

“He lost a fine wife some years ago. Nabby Bigelow would often give a good boy a ginger snap,” he smiled. “But then, Jonah was left alone with a young child in his care.”

“Ned is eighteen now, and takes care of his grandfather.”

“The way of the world. Born to a young sister of Mrs. Bigelow who lived to the west, I recall, and died in childbirth.”

“You know more of the family's history than I.”

“Possibly. We realize we're growing old when we discover we're founts of information, much of it unimportant, most unasked for,” he replied with a chuckle. “Tell me, what kind of employment supports them? Even before I left Bracebridge, Jonah could do little more than sit in the sun.”

“It's said Ned follows in Jonah's footsteps. I've even heard some remark that he resembles the grasshopper in the fable, while he should emulate the ant. But he pleases us with his violin,” she added, now that they had begun to hear the fiddle's strains. “And he's read a great deal. They say, too, the stories he often tells at the Blue Boar are well received.”

“It sounds as if he might come to Boston, and take up the law.”

“By staying here with his grandfather, I think he may well have added years to Jonah's life. I sometimes suppose we give too little praise to those who make joyful noises.”

“Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise,” the lawyer quoted in ringing tones. “Yet for pleasure, I doubt I would choose to watch an ant for any length of time, myself. A fiddle brings us all far better amusement.”

They began to encounter a number of villagers, and as they neared the ice, Charlotte was glad to see Diana among the crowd. Greetings were exchanged between the lawyer and Richard Longfellow, who'd earlier become acquainted in Boston; Mr. Reed bowed to Mrs. Montagu, who had heard of him. As soon as her brief smile faded, Longfellow led Reed into a discussion of town matters, which somewhat excluded the ladies.

Charlotte held out the basket she'd brought and encouraged Diana to take a maple roll, noting that she appeared wan when compared to those around them. Diana nibbled, giving only a small indication of her approval.

Moses Reed went to speak with his old friend Jonah Bigelow who sat by the fire, warming himself inside and out. Then Longfellow turned to give his attention back to his sister, but saw that she'd moved off to stand alone. In spite of his determined efforts to enjoy the day, he found himself glowering.

A year ago, Diana would have found words to describe any situation in which she found herself. Now, it seemed, she cared little for what others around her said or did. Was that the fault of her marriage? More and more, it was a thing he considered to have been ill-advised. Yet how could anyone have stopped her from accepting the captain, the year before? A brother, surely, could hope to do no more than guide a determined young heiress of nearly twenty, especially when her own mother, his stepmother, was pleased with Diana's choice. And what