“I remember reading in a book about putting something heavy in a sock and swinging it as a weapon.” Knit again.

“Sand,” said Jill. “A sockful of sand makes a really nice weapon.”

Yarn over. “Yes, but sand hasn’t got a spike in it.” Purl.

“A long skinny rock can be a kind of spike. And all you have to do after is dump the rock out, run the sock through a washing machine, and nobody’s the wiser.”

They both glanced toward the store’s front window and thought of the lakeshore, a stone’s throw away.

Bing! “Have you had lunch yet, Betsy?” asked a man’s voice from the doorway.

Betsy looked up from behind the desk. Hud was standing there in a spice-colored suit and vest, white shirt and no tie, which looked wonderful with his ruddy complexion and streaky hair. He was leaning elegantly on a brass-headed cane and sunlight coming from behind put him in a golden aura.

Betsy smiled, both in admiration and remembering Godwin’s sarcastic description. “Well, hi, Hud. As a matter of fact, I haven’t yet.”

Godwin said, “Bring me back a sandwich. Any kind.”

As they left the shop, Betsy teased, “What’s that cane for? Did you sprain your ankle?”

He hoisted it, twirled it, set it down again. “What, don’t you like it? Then I’ll bring another next time. I have a collection.” He held it out and she took it.

It was heavy; the shaft was of a dense wood whose color matched his suit, the head was an upright lozenge that on closer examination was seen to be an owl. The barely raised features made it pleasant to grip.

“Is it a sword cane?” she asked, pulling at it.

“Not this one.” He took it back. “But I have one with a blade in it, and another that holds about four ounces of whiskey. They look exactly alike; can you imagine me trying to run off a mugger and instead offering him a drink?”

She laughed, then asked, “What are you doing in town?”

“Consulting you. We’ve been offered a seventeenth-century chatelaine, and I’m wondering if you can tell our European-art curator the uses of the implements in it.”

“Why ask me? What’s a chatelaine?”

“It’s a metal holder for needlework implements. Scissors, thimble, needle pack, like that.”

Betsy groaned softly. She was so ignorant!

Hud continued, “But this one has some other things in it that we’re not sure of. A tool that looks to me like a really narrow guitar pick, for example. Everything’s made of silver and everything matches, but I don’t know if that pick really belongs or not.”

“We have something like that in the shop. The package it comes in says it’s a laying tool, but I have no idea what it’s used for. I could ask my Monday Bunch: they know everything.”