on,” whispered Felicity. “Go on, Penny. You are free.”
Penny hesitated. She shook her mane and nickered. Then she disappeared into the woods.
“Good-bye, Penny. Good-bye, my girl,” Felicity whispered. She sat on the cold ground and waited to be sure Penny was not going to come back. Felicity didn’t care how late she was getting home. She didn’t care if Mr. Nye found her there in the pasture. Penny was free now, and that was all that mattered.
At last Felicity stood, brushed the dirt off the breeches, and headed home. She was very weary.
Later that morning, Felicity went back to Ben’s room above the stable. “Here are your breeches, Ben,” she said.
Ben took the breeches. “Did you let her go?” he asked.
Felicity nodded. Her eyes filled with tears. “Penny is free,” she said. “She freed herself.”
“It’s the best thing,” said Ben.
“Aye,” said Felicity. “But I hope she doesn’t feel I’ve abandoned her. That would break my heart. She knows that I love her, doesn’t she, Ben?”
“She knows,” said Ben seriously. “She knows you love her so much you let her go free. You gave her what she needed most—her independence.”
Felicity was quiet. Then she said, “Aye. That’s it. Her independence.”
The next Sunday, as they were all setting out for church, Mrs. Merriman said, “Well, Ben! I see your friend returned those breeches at last! They’re mended nicely, too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ben.
“Mind you keep an eye on them, lad,” said Mrs. Merriman.
“Yes, ma’am, I will,” said Ben. “But if my friend should ever need them, I’d be honored to lend them again.”
He and Felicity shared a secret smile.
Apple Butter Day
Felicity leaned back against the chimney. She put one leg on either side of the steep roof. The shingles were warm against her bare legs. A restless breeze played with her petticoats. Felicity shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out over the treetops and rooftops of Williamsburg. She watched a bright red cardinal bird swoop across the sky. Felicity grinned. How lovely it must feel to fly wherever you want to go, with nothing holding you down, she thought.
“Lissie! Lissieeee!” she heard Nan calling her.
Felicity decided to ignore Nan. She knew what Nan wanted. Today was apple butter day. That’s why Felicity was on the roof. She was supposed to be picking apples for Mother to make into apple butter. The best apples were at the very top of the tree, where the branches hung over the roof. So Felicity had fetched a ladder, climbed up to the roof, and filled her apple sack quickly and easily. Now Nan wanted her turn to pick apples. She wanted Felicity to work in the hot, stuffy kitchen, stirring the pot of sticky apple mush. Felicity was not ready to go in.
Felicity pulled one of the apples out of the sack and rubbed it on her sleeve. She took a big bite. Mmmm! Felicity seemed to taste the warm summer sun, the wild rains of September, and the cool, dark, starry nights of autumn in that juicy, tart bite. Between chews, Felicity wiggled her loose tooth with her thumb. She couldn’t wait for it to fall out. Ben was teaching her to whistle with her fingers in her mouth. She thought losing that tooth might help.
Felicity tried whistling. If I whistled loud enough, she thought, Nan and everyone in Williamsburg would hear me. They’d see me up here on the roof, as high as a flag! She smiled. Wouldn’t that be fine?
“Lissie!” she heard Nan again. “Where are you?”
“I’m up here,” Felicity answered. She waved to Nan from her perch.
“Lissie!” yelped Nan. She sounded scared. “Mother!” she called. “Come quick! Lissie’s on the roof! Mother! Come and see.”
“Whatever’s the matter, Nan?” asked Mrs. Merriman. She rushed out of the kitchen. William toddled along behind her. “What’s on the roof?” She looked up. When she saw Felicity, she gasped. “Oh my gracious! Lissie!” Then she said in a very stern voice, “Felicity Merriman, I will not shout for all the world to hear. Come down from that roof immediately.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Felicity. She slid down the roof to the ladder with a sinking feeling. I’ve done something wrong-headed again, she thought to herself. Felicity scrambled down the ladder so quickly she scraped her knee, lost her footing, and had to jump the last few feet to the ground.
When she landed, her mother felt her all over as if she might have broken bones. “Goodness, Lissie!” she said. “You gave me such a fright! Climbing way up on the roof like that! What were you thinking of?”
“Well, I…well, it didn’t seem dangerous,” said Felicity. “And there were so many more apples at the top of the tree.”
“So you thought you could fetch the apples faster. Is that it? Impatient as usual,” said her mother. She put her hands on Felicity’s shoulders and said gently but firmly, “You are near to ten years of age, Felicity. That’s old enough to know what’s a danger to you. And that’s too old to be acting careless and childish.”
Felicity shifted the heavy apple sack off her shoulder. “I’m sorry…”
“I know you are,” said her mother kindly. “But I do wish you would stop and think before you act. Sometimes you have no more sense than a giddy goose!” She sighed. “And let us hope no one saw you on the roof with your petticoats blowing above your knees, bare-legged as a newborn babe. ’Tis wrong and unseemly for a girl your age. Now put your shoes and stockings on and come inside quick as you can. Nan will finish picking the apples.”
Felicity trailed along behind her mother to the kitchen house. Her heart was as heavy as the apple sack. The kitchen was dark compared to outside. The air was hot and thick. Rose, the cook, was peeling apples, slicing them into four parts, and dropping them in a pot of water. Another big pot full of apple mush was burbling by the fire. Mrs. Merriman pointed to it.
“You stir, Lissie,” she said. “Don’t let the apples stick to the pot. And mind you don’t scorch your petticoat by the fire.”
Felicity stirred with a long wooden spoon. Round and round, again and again, she stirred the apple mush till her arms ached. It was tiresome work, and dull. Her hair stuck to her sweaty neck. Her hands were sore, and her back was stiff. As soon as one batch of apples was cooked
