“True.” Roger glanced at me, a smile in the corner of his mouth. “I don’t suppose you happen to know if … I mean …”

“Both of them at once?” I laughed. “God knows, but there are three small children in that house, and at least two of them are still sleeping in their parents’ bed. They must be very sound sleepers,” I added thoughtfully, “but just the constraints of space …”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Roger assured me. “And the weather’s still fine out of doors.”

The trail had widened enough for us to walk side by side for a little. “Anyway, I’m amazed that the old lady made such a gesture, after what she said to Brianna and me about witches, but—”

“Well, she did assure all of us—including me and Mandy—that we were going to Hell.”

That made him laugh.

“Have you seen Mandy imitating Mrs. Cunningham doing that?”

“I can’t wait. How much farther is this place?”

“Almost there. Am I still decent?” he asked, brushing maple leaves off the skirt of his waistcoat.

He’d dressed carefully for the occasion, in good breeches, a clean shirt, and a waistcoat with humble wooden buttons, these hastily substituted by Bree for the bronze ones it normally sported. In addition, Brianna had plaited his hair and Jamie—who had much more experience in such matters—had clubbed it for him, neatly folding up the plait and tying it firmly at the nape with Jamie’s own broad black grosgrain ribbon.

“Go with God, a charaid,” he’d told Roger, grinning. Go with God, forsooth …

“Perfect,” I assured him.

“Onward, then.”

I’d never been as far as the Cunninghams’ cabin. It was a new building, and far toward the southern end of the Ridge. We’d been walking for more than an hour, brushing off the leaves—and with them, gnats, wasps, and spiders—that fell in a gentle green rain from the deciduous trees. The air was very warm, though, and I was beginning to wish that I’d packed some form of liquid refreshment when Roger stopped, just short of a clearing.

Brianna had already told me about the whitewashed stones and the shining glass windows. There was also a large vegetable and herb garden laid out behind the house, but it was evident that Mrs. Cunningham hadn’t yet managed to contrive a fence that would keep deer and rabbits out of it. It gave me distress to see the trampled ground, the broken stems, and the stubby tops of turnips, gnawed and denuded of their greens—but on the bright side, it might make the items in my pocket more desirable.

I took off my hat and hastily tidied my hair, insofar as such a thing was possible after walking four miles on a hot day.

The door opened before I could put my hat back on.