Before Adelaide could be seated, a soft tapping sounded at the door. “Mercy. How could they get up here that fast? Winged feet?”
As she opened the door, there stood Caleb, leaning against the doorframe. A strangled gasp came from Adelaide. “Do you still have that—that slimy reptile?”
“Yup. But Beagan’s safe in my pocket.”
Maggie was mortified. “Caleb, what do you want?”
“Can I come and be with you, Maggie?” he said, looking past Adelaide. “I don’t want to stay downstairs.”
“How did you know where I was?” Maggie demanded.
“I’m mighty good at tracking and following. I’d make a good Indian, wouldn’t I?”
“Caleb, go away. This is just for us girls,” Maggie ordered, trying not to appear unkind. She didn’t want the girls to think she was hateful, but she knew they didn’t want a little brother bothering them.
“Oh, please, Maggie. I won’t hurt anything. I promise I’ll keep Beagan in my pocket. And if he crawls out, I’ll put him right back in.”
Celia gave a shudder. “How ghastly,” she said.
Maggie rose and went to the door. “I apologize for the interruption, Adelaide. Excuse me a moment.” Stepping into the alcove, she closed the door, then took her little brother by the shoulders. “Caleb, you’re causing me a great deal of embarrassment,” she said softly. “Now go on downstairs with Father and leave me alone.”
“Father is just sitting. I don’t want to just sit.”
“Where’s Evan?”
Caleb shrugged. “Outside somewhere. He said he didn’t care to come in.” He pulled Beagan out and let the little snake crawl through his fingers.
“You must put your snake away while you’re here. You saw how the girls reacted—other ladies will do the same. Now go find Evan.” It was just like Evan not to come in. She had one brother who wouldn’t mingle socially and another who wouldn’t leave her alone. What a disaster!
“But no one is serving sweetcakes outdoors.” Caleb’s shoulders sagged a little.
“You’re being impossible,” Maggie said, becoming more and more flustered. “You must go back down and leave me alone.” Gently, she guided him down the hall to the open balcony overlooking the double parlors. From that vantage point, she waved to get her father’s attention. It took a moment, but when she finally caught his eye, she pointed at Caleb. Dr. Baldwin quickly came to the foot of the stairs.
“Caleb, come down here this moment,” he said firmly.
“Not fair,” Caleb spouted, as he hurried down the curving steps to his father.
Maggie heaved a little sigh. Finally she could be with her friends. By the time she returned to the nursery, the two servants were bustling about, setting the tea things on the table. A tea service of blue and gold sat primly on a black-and-gold Chinese tea tray. The silver cake basket, full of sweetcakes, wafers, and tiny sandwiches, was placed next to the tea service.
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said as she sat at her place. “I don’t know what got into him.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t have hurt anything,” Celia said.
“Oh, now,” Adelaide said, gracefully pulling off her kid gloves, “we certainly don’t need a little one pestering us.” She lifted the cake basket and passed it to Maggie. “Now if it’d been your older brother, that might have been different.” She gave a wink, and Maggie was shocked. This girl was quite forward.
“Shall I pour?” asked one of the servants. The girl was not many years older than Adelaide.
“Oh, mercy me, no,” Adelaide said with a wave of her hand.
“None of you colonists know how to pour properly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Maggie could tell the girl was not even a little embarrassed.
“Adelaide!” Celia spoke up. “Shame on you.”
“Well, it’s the truth. Mother and Father haven’t been able to employ decent help since we left London. No one here has been trained properly.”
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” the girl asked, inching toward the door.
“No, Hayley. You may go.”
When the servants had departed, Adelaide poured the tea into thin cups decorated in pink rosebud designs. “It’s true what I said, girls. Mother and Daddy have searched every nook and cranny of Boston for trained help, and it simply can’t be found.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what to say since her family didn’t have a single servant. Sometimes Hannah hired girls to come in and help pluck the geese or do spring cleaning, but that was temporary.
“Our servants seem to do fine,” Celia put in as she took her cup and sipped from it.
Maggie did likewise but was fearful the fragile little cup might crumble right in her fingers. When the cake basket was passed, Maggie chose a golden sponge cake, which looked soft as a cloud.
“And such odd servants we get,” Adelaide went on. “Take Hayley, for instance.” She leaned forward slightly, raising her eyebrows. “She’s a revivalist!”
“No!” Celia said with a soft little gasp. “Is she really?”
Before Maggie could catch herself, she blurted out, “What’s a revivalist?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Adelaide touched her forehead. “You live here in Boston and you don’t know what a revivalist is?”
Before Maggie could answer, Celia explained, “They follow the itinerant preachers, Maggie. The ones who hold wild meetings—which they say are religious—in barns.”
“In a barn or right outdoors in a pasture,” Adelaide added. “Can you imagine such irreverence? A dirty old barn—to hold church?”
“The people become quite agitated, I’m told.” Celia wiped her fingers on the white linen napkin and reached for a slice of fruitcake.
“Very agitated,” Adelaide agreed. “Like this.” She set down her cup and threw back her head. Touching her forehead with her hand, she gave a loud groan. “Oh, I feel it, I feel it…. Ooh, I feel the Spirit.”
Maggie giggled with glee at the sight of the lovely Adelaide acting out such a part.
“Or like this,” Celia said. Jumping up from her chair, she knelt down and began to beat her breast, crying, “Oh, save me, save me! Please save me. I need to be saved.”
“Then they jump up and down, waving their arms!” Adelaide leaped to her feet to demonstrate. As the pantomimes continued, the three girls were consumed with fits of giggles until they could barely breathe beneath their whalebone corsets.
“I shall never have to wonder what a revivalist is after that demonstration,” Maggie said, dabbing at her eyes with her kerchief. She’d laughed so hard, tears filled her eyes.
“Really, it’s quite vile,” Celia said, as she tried to catch her breath. “My father says they are completely in error.”
“And my father calls them the ‘bumbling backwoodsmen,’” Adelaide said. “He feels they should be run out of any town they dare come into.”
“They must be pretty bad,” Maggie said thoughtfully. She helped herself to another sandwich.
“Very bad,” Celia said. “They have absolutely no reverence for the church.”
“I can tell you one thing,” Adelaide said. “You’ll never catch me going near one of their wild heathenistic meetings. Why, even Pastor Gee of North Church will have nothing to do with them. And both Clark and Oliver say all the professors at Harvard are dead set against them.”
A tap on the door interrupted their little party. “Girls!” came Mrs. Chilton’s voice. “Sorry to interrupt your merrymaking, but guests are leaving, and Dr. Baldwin is asking for Maggie.”
“Oh, Maggie, I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.” Adelaide rose to give Maggie a hug. “It was a pure pleasure having you.”
“I enjoyed every minute, Adelaide,” Maggie told her. “Thank you for such a charming tea party.”
“It was rompish good fun,” Celia agreed, also giving a hug. “Let’s do it again soon.”
The girls tripped down the stairs to find the parlor nearly
empty. Evan was waiting at the door for Maggie. “It’s about time,” he said under his breath. “I’m quite ready to leave.”
“Just a moment. My wrap.”
Suddenly Adelaide was beside them, holding Maggie’s cloak. “Evan, how good that you could come to our home. Do come again, won’t you?”
“As I find opportunity,” he said, bowing stiffly and replacing his tricorn hat. “Maggie, please. Father’s waiting.”
Maggie was attempting to tie on her hat while Evan was putting her cloak about her. “Give me a chance to tie my hat,” she protested. But Evan was bundling her right out the door and down the steps to the waiting carriage.
“Really, Father,” Maggie complained once she was seated beside him in the carriage, “both my brothers were impossible today. Do you know how that makes me appear to Adelaide and her parents?”
Dr. Baldwin clucked at his team of bays. “I dare say, I probably wasn’t much better. I nearly fell asleep in the corner.”
“There, you see?” said Evan. “Father doesn’t care for the Chiltons any more than I do.”
“I just wanted to eat with you,” Caleb chimed in.
Maggie moaned. “I like Adelaide and Celia, and I long to be invited again, but how can I if the three of you act like awkward misfits?”
“She’s right, boys. We owe her an apology.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” said Evan.
“Me, too,” Caleb echoed.
Dr. Baldwin put his arm around her. “And I apologize, as well. Perhaps we should have insisted that Hannah come along. Hannah would have seen to it that the three of us behaved more gentlemanly!”
“That she would,” Maggie agreed.
Even though Maggie loved Hannah with all her heart, it was times like these when she wished her own mother were still alive. As they left the area of Boston Common and drove up Hanover Street to Copp’s Hill, Maggie thought back over her delightful time at the tea party. How she wished she could have tea parties every day.
If she socialized more, perhaps she would know about such things as the revivalists. She wouldn’t have admitted this to the girls, but they made her a bit curious about these strange services. What could the revivalists possibly have done to cause so much anger and mistrust?
CHAPTER 3
Washday Blues
You’re attacking that candlestick as though you were attempting to kill it,” Hannah said with a chuckle. Her jolly face, as usual, was bright and smiling.
Maggie was sitting at the wooden kitchen table polishing the brass candlesticks. They stood in a row on the table, waiting their turns to be polished to a high sheen. “I thought you were tending the laundry kettle,” Maggie said.
“I came in to see how near done you were. I’ll need help as soon as you can come out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered, her voice sullen. “What a blessing that we can still do the wash outdoors. I pray the mild autumn weather lasts.” Hannah stepped into the pantry off the kitchen and came back out with the soap bar in hand and a knife for grating it. “Old Man Winter will drive me inside much too soon for my liking.” When Maggie didn’t answer, Hannah moved toward the back door. “Hurry then, will you please?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Helping with the laundry meant hauling several buckets of water from the well to the wash pot and then wringing out the clothes, which became heavy and bulky when wet.
At the door, Hannah paused. “You seem distracted this morning. Are you coming down with something?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look a bit peaked. I’ll tell your father when he comes home. You may be in need of a tonic.” The door closed on her last words.
Maggie wasn’t sure a tonic would help. She was sound in body, but something deep inside wasn’t quite right. As she polished the candlesticks, she wondered who cleaned up melted wax and polished the candlesticks at the Chilton home. But she didn’t really have to wonder. She knew for a fact it wasn’t Adelaide. Perhaps it was the girl named Hayley—the one who went to the wild barn meetings.
Once the brass candlesticks were shiny, Maggie firmed a candle down into each one. The burned wick of each candle was trimmed off in preparation for the evening’s use. Hannah was strict about the candles being prepared first thing each morning. “You don’t wait until dark to prepare for the darkness,” she’d say. Then she always added, “Likewise, don’t wait until you’re at death’s door to prepare for departure.”
Hannah had a saying for everything. When Maggie was a little girl, she’d loved all Hannah’s quaint sayings. Now they seemed aged and yellowed like some of the books in Father’s study. She couldn’t imagine the lovely Pert Chilton ever uttering such antiquated sayings.
When the candlesticks were finished, Maggie set them on a tray and placed the tray on a pantry shelf. She shook out bits of burned wick and wax shavings from the skirt of her plain day dress. Maggie had grown so fast the past few months that the sleeves of her day dress were becoming much too short. She was now as tall as Hannah and nearly as tall as Evan.
Another thing Hannah was strict about—they didn’t put on their nicer dresses until the morning work was completed. Maggie was willing to wager that neither Adelaide nor Celia even owned a day dress, let alone one with sleeves that were too short.
In the dooryard, the fire under the iron wash kettle had set the water into a rolling boil. Hannah, who was stirring the clothing vigorously with her wash stick, looked up as Maggie came out. “I’m nearly ready for rinsing, Maggie,” she said. “Bring more water.”
At the well, Maggie filled two buckets, but she could only carry one at a time. She poured the clean well water into a copper rinse tub that sat on a low table near the fire.
“I wish Evan were here to do this,” she said.
Hannah straightened up and pushed at the small of her back with her free hand. “Now since when have you ever seen men doing a woman’s work?”
“I don’t mean he should do the laundry, but he could at least carry the water before he leaves.”
“Your brother was up before daylight carrying water, young lady, but it wasn’t for our work; it was for the horses.”
Of course, Maggie knew that. She knew he had also split and stacked much of the wood that was delivered to the house. But somehow that didn’t console her.
Hannah lifted the hot laundry from the wash pot with the wash stick and slung the wet clothes into the rinse water. From there, Maggie assisted as each piece was wrung out and spread out across the shrubbery to dry in the sunshine.
It was nearly time for lunch before they were finished with the laundry. If her father could get away, he was usually home for lunch, at which time he assigned her Latin lessons for the afternoon. When Evan was younger, he attended the nearby Latin School where Caleb now attended, but Dr. Baldwin taught Latin to his daughter at home. The lessons used to be fun and challenging, but recently she’d begun to wonder why she had to continue. It seemed senseless to continue studying every day.
Together, Maggie and Hannah carried the wash water, then the rinse water, to the edge of the kitchen garden, emptying the kettles on what remained of the plants. “Hannah,” Maggie said as they carried the kettles back into the kitchen, “have you heard about the revivalists?”
Hannah nodded as she stirred up the fire to start the noon meal. “I’ve heard of them.”
“If they’re so terrible, why are they allowed to come into the city?” Maggie wanted to know. “Are they so terrible?”
“They’re bumbling backwoodsmen who are in error,” Maggie said as she took down the pewter plates from the shelf and set the places at the table. Father enjoyed his noon meal in the kitchen, while supper was served in the dining room. “Why, I hear they’ve never been educated and don’t even write out their sermons.”
“And what do you think of these kinds of preachers, Miss Margaret?”
Maggie stopped a minute. “What do I think? Well, I don’t know, since I’ve not heard them. But I know I wo
uldn’t want to, since they are in error.”
“Just remember, people often suspect that of which they are ignorant.”
Another one of Hannah’s sayings. But it failed to answer Maggie’s questions and made her almost miffed. “One surely isn’t ignorant if it’s common knowledge that these people are irreverent enough to hold services in dirty barns or even outdoors,” Maggie retorted.
Hannah cut up a cabbage and some carrots, added them to a kettle with pieces of pork, and put the pot over the fire to boil. “Holding a service out-of-doors is wrong?”
Maggie stopped what she was doing. “Well, of course it’s wrong. We have our churches in which we show reverence to God. Don’t you think it’s wrong?”
“My opinion doesn’t seem to matter here. You’re the one with all the questions. And,” Hannah added, “seemingly the one with all the answers, as well.”
Maggie felt anger growing against Hannah. The feeling was confusing and rather frightening. She’d never been angry with Hannah before. Thankfully, Father chose that moment to show up for his noon meal.
Maggie was a trifle worried that Hannah would bring up the subject of the revivalists while they ate. She wasn’t ready to discuss the subject with her father. But her worry was for nothing because Hannah didn’t breathe a word of it.
After their meal, Dr. Baldwin called Maggie into his study, where he outlined her afternoon lessons. Generally, her lesson consisted of copying scripture into Latin and writing her own compositions in Latin, as well. In addition, there was assigned reading in a book from her father’s library collection. Today’s assignment was no exception.
As her father prepared to leave, Maggie blurted out, “Father, how much longer must I continue to work on daily lessons?”
A look of surprise registered on Dr. Baldwin’s face. “Why, Maggie, I thought you enjoyed learning. I’ve attempted to give you the same opportunities as your brothers to expand your mind and to use the talents God has given you.”
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