The Half-a-Moon Inn Read Online Free Page B

about the table, you were, just you and your mother with her long brown hair, color of molasses, sipping soup out of those pretty blue bowls.”
    Aaron stared up at her in disbelief. It was just as she said.
    â€œAye, I peeked into your dreams, I did, and inspected ’em close. Oh, you were dreaming of speaking, you were, just laughing and shouting and chattering on like a chipmunk. And while I was watching you, I caught me a glimpse out one of your windows—and what do I see but gulls sailing through the air and blue water clear to the horizon. Aye, lad, and no doubt about it—’twas the sea.”
    She bore down on Aaron like a bird of prey. “And the sea’s practically ’round the other side of the globe from here, boy—that far and then some! Oh, you come a long way from home, me cricket—and too long a way to be found again! Why, you’d just as likely catch a June bug in December as find your dear mother sniffing around here after you, if she ain’t clicking her heels to be rid of you.”
    She smiled down at Aaron like a jack-o’-lantern. “But I’ll be generous with you, boy, more than it pays me, and give you a fine roof over your head and your meals as well, all for the price of your minding the fires and doing your chores. Now what’s your name, boy?”
    Aaron wouldn’t have told her even if he were able, and he shook his head.
    â€œWell, you’ll come running to ‘Sam’ from now on, same as the last one. Makes it easy on me memory that way. Now into your clothes, Sam—and to the grates with you!”
    Miss Grackle rushed out of the room and Aaron scampered over to the fireplace and climbed into his clothes. Why was it that she couldn’t light the fires herself? She’d said it was her back, but she looked strong enough to him to fire up a volcano. Either way, he had more important things to do than to stay on here as an errand boy—and Miss Grackle would find that out in a hurry. Why, he’d be up and out the door quick as a cat—and let her try and catch him!
    All of a sudden he stopped and stared. His two winter coats were gone, and so was his sack. He glanced about the room for them—and saw that his stockings were missing, and his boots as well. He clearly remembered taking them off the night before and setting them by the fire. He searched for them everywhere, hopping from one foot to the other on the icy floor, but they seemed to have vanished completely.
    Down the stairs he scurried, flushed with anger. He hunted up Miss Grackle, tugged on her arm and pointed to his bare feet.
    â€œMisplaced your boots, did you?” She tied on her apron, with its pocket as big as a flour sack. “Well then, let it be an inspiration to you to keep the floor as warm as griddles. Now give us a blaze, boy, and be quick about it!”
    Misplaced, indeed! They might be tight on his feet, but how would he escape through the snow without them?
    â€œAnd when the flames are climbing the chimney like ivy you can set your fingers to these,” she said, and thrust a basket of vegetables into his arms. Aaron wanted to heave it back at her and make a dash for the door—but he remembered his feet. He needed time to think. He decided to do as she said, building a fire and peeling potatoes for the evening’s soup, all the while searching for his boots out the corner of his eye.
    Suddenly he heard a clumping of feet down the stairs. The callers, of course! Surely one of them would rescue him from Miss Grackle, and mounted on a horse he could get by without boots. He burst up from his bench and made a run for the stairs, but Miss Grackle got there before him and lashed at his feet with her willow switch.
    â€œBack to your work, boy—quick now!” She chased him hopping back to his seat, his feet stinging as though they’d been stuck into a beehive.
    â€œDidn’t your mother ever teach you to