Here Comes a Candle by Jane Aiken Hodge

reckoned she might be down to the mill looking for her pa, which Mr. Penrose won ’ t have on any account. Because of the machinery, you know. She ’ s such an active little bit of mischief, our Sarey. ”
    Just for an instant, as Mrs. Peters spoke, Sarah ’ s eyes met Kate ’ s in a look of such pure child ’ s mischief, that Kate knew she had gone out by the front door on purpose to mislead her pursuers. Nothing, surely, stupid about that?
    And yet, over breakfast, she found herself compelled to reconsider. With the appearance of food, a devil seemed to enter into the child. Kate tried to laugh at herself for the notion, but failed. Sarah began by upsetting her milk, apparently by accident. Then, while Mrs. Peters was mopping this up and Kate was pouring her own coffee, she took a jug of maple syrup and poured it, slowly and deliberately, in a trail along the side of the table.
    “ Oh, lawks, Sarey, look what you ’ ve done now! ” Mrs. Peters ’ tone made it all too clear that this was no surprise to her. “ And I thought you was going to be good today, for Mrs. Croston. Now you just move over here and try and eat your ham like a good girl while old Peters cleans up this mess. No, ma ’ am, ” this to Kate, “ don ’ t you stir yourself. You must be plum famished. I ’ m used to it. ”
    “ I see. ” Kate was beginning to see a good deal. Sarah, who had moved obediently enough to the other side of the table, was occupied in arranging the little pieces of ham Mrs. Peters had cut for her in a neat line across her plate. So far, she had eaten nothing.
    “ Do you like ham, Sarah? ” No answer, but a quick, sideways flash of the eyes showed Kate she had been understood.
    “ She don ’ like nothing, Mrs. Croston, but bread and milk, and her pa says she ’ ll never grow big and strong on that. ”
    “ Perhaps not, ” said Kate, “ but could she have it for a treat, because it ’ s my first day? I ’ ll talk to Mr. Penrose about it later. ”
    “ Of course, if you say so, miss—ma ’ am, I should say. I ’ ll fetch it directly. That will be a treat, won ’ t it, Sarey? ”
    Again the child took no notice. She was busy now, lining up salt cellars and other bits of crockery across the table, and Kate, who was indeed famished, was glad to leave her to it and hurry on with her own meal. She had almost finished when Mrs. Peters returned with a steaming bowl of bread and milk. “ Ummm—that looks good, ” she moved over to sit beside Sarah. “ Shall we pretend you ’ re my baby and I ’ ll feed you? Would that be fun, Sarah? ” And then, when the child merely looked past her with wide, uncomprehending eyes, “ My mother used to have a game she played with me. Let me see how it went. ” She dipped the spoon in the steaming bowl. “ Here ’ s a bite for Lord Nelson ” —the child swallowed it— “ and one for the Queen—A bite for Lord Chatham, Wherever he ’ s been— ” She laughed. “ I shall have to make up a new one for you, Sarah. Let ’ s think— ” as she talked she was spooning bread and milk into the passive mouth. “ No good thinking we can find a rhyme for President, is there? ” She did not expect an answer, and went straight on, as if talking to herself. “ Here ’ s a bite for your father, and one for his mill. A bite for your mother— ” Sarah ’ s teeth clenched on the spoon and she spat bread and milk all over the table. “ Oh, Sarah! ” But instinct warned her not to lose her temper, and she managed, quite cheerfully: “ What a mess! Let ’ s mop it up, shall we? ” congratulating herself, meanwhile, that Mrs. Peters had vanished with a disapproving glance as she began on the first rhyme.
    While she was busy cleaning up the table, Sarah contrived to spill most of the rest of the bowlful down her front, but Kate refused to be drawn. “ Had enough, have you? Right; then let ’ s go up and c hange that sopping dress. ” She pulled back Sarah ’ s chair,