“He doesn't look any wickeder than the others,” said the child. “Who was the man that fell down in the road, mother, and the woman that knelt and prayed over him? Why did he fall, and why did she pray, mother?”
“That was Master Aaron Boynton, the schoolmaster, and his wife. He only made believe to fall down, as the Cochranites do; the way they carry on is a disgrace to the village, and that's the reason your father won't let us look at them.”
“I played with a nice boy over to Boynton's,” mused the child.
“That was Ivory, their only child. He is a good little fellow, but his mother and father will spoil him with their crazy ways.”
“I hope nothing will happen to him, for I love him,” said the child gravely. “He showed me a humming-bird's nest, the first ever I saw, and the littlest!”
“Don't talk about loving him,” chided the woman. “If your father should hear you, he'd send you to bed without your porridge.”
“Father couldn't hear me, for I never speak when he's at home,” said grave little Waitstill. “And I'm used to going to bed without my porridge.”
II. THE SISTERS
THE river was still running under the bridge, but the current of time had swept Jacob Cochrane out of sight, though not out of mind, for he had left here and there a disciple to preach his strange and uncertain doctrine. Waitstill, the child who never spoke in her father's presence, was a young woman now, the mistress of the house; the stepmother was dead, and the baby a girl of seventeen.