the heating of various dishes at the fire. Those not involved in the cooking arranged tea tables in the front parlor. When Diana descended, eight sat down to breakfast.
After all had been satisfied, they made their plans for the rest of the day. Longfellow invited Captain Montagu to accompany him on a visit to Nathan Browne, the blacksmith, whose forge stood behind the Bracebridge Inn. He also announced his intention of visiting the Blue Boar tavern alone, some time later.
Softened by Lem's pleading, the selectman decided to allow a visit to the Sloan household, as long as it was made in the company of Mrs. Willett. This condition she accepted, since it would give her a chance to see how Hannah progressed. Both promised to return well before dinner. However, Charlotte made it clear that first she would go and speak with Nathan, as well.
Diana and Magdalene would stay indoors, as neither had any need to go out. Together, they would be able to help Cicero with the dinner.
Cicero agreed, realizing their assistance would be minimal once they'd found something to talk about, and that they would then be little bother, after all.
Chapter 24
SINCE NEW PATHS through the snow had by now been made in much of the village, Longfellow and Captain Montagu had no difficulty escorting Mrs. Willett to the circular drive before the Bracebridge Inn, and on to the smithy beyond the carriage house.
Smoke signified that Nathan Browne was hard at work. Little wonder, thought Charlotte, for this was his busiest season. She often visited the place, but avoided his shop when most farmers brought in their tools and plows to be mended and sharpened for spring. Frequently they stayed far longer than they needed to, conversing and enjoying the warmth.
Today Nathan had only one customer, who wished to pay for the sharpening of a pair of shovels and a pick he'd brought in a few days before. He left them behind, however, for he'd come with neither horse nor wagon. In something of a rush, he lifted his hat and hurried out, as soon as the new party came through the door.
“A very good day,” the blacksmith said, adding coins to those in a pocket that already bulged and jingled. “The snow seems to have made men feel generous.”
“Why do you suppose that is, Nathan?” asked Longfellow.
The muscular smith pulled a heavy hood over the fire to slow it. He approached his visitors with a questioning look of his own.
“I don't know,” he answered. “But I wonder if you have an idea, sir?”
“How much have you taken in recently?”
“Of that I'm not sure—but far more than usual. I'm often paid after harvest, for as you know, farmers are always behind. And yet, since yesterday morning, several have come to pay their debts, and a few have even advanced a little cash for future services! Silver has been pouring into my pockets.” He gave the coins another jingle and laughed out loud.
“Most of it in shillings?”
“Why yes, as a matter of fact.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't the only one having luck today.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I doubt,” Charlotte said, “that Nathan would know, Richard. After all, he's the first person you'd be expected to ask. Isn't he too obvious?”
“Asked about what?” The smith rolled down his sleeves, for the atmosphere had cooled.
“We've only come to ask for your help, if you'll give it,” Longfellow replied. “Something unlawful has been occupying the village, of which only a few are unaware. This makes it necessary for me to suspect even those I consider my friends, at least until I find some answers. Would you mind if I took a look at those shillings of yours?”
The smith reached into his pocket. He then set the coins down on a nearby bench, and spread them with a quick movement of his strong fingers.
One by one, Longfellow picked out silver that far outweighed a few coppers, and took it to the window. Looking for information of another sort, Edmund Montagu walked around the shop, observing implements that hung along the walls.
“Mrs. Willett?” Nathan appealed. He pulled a keg forward and offered it as a seat. “This has nothing to do with the boy's death, I hope?” he asked suddenly.
“All eleven shillings are counterfeit,” Longfellow announced, setting them on the sill.
“What?” Nathan cried. “What is that you say?”
“Several of our neighbors appear to be less scrupulous than we about the law,” replied the selectman. The captain approached with his pocket lens and made