Chapter 22
The tour guide looked like other tour guides from witch trial museums around Salem. She was a young woman, college age, her long white-blond hair pulled into a bun and covered by a white coif tied in a knot under her chin. The coif was covered by a floppy bonnet keeping the iridescent early spring rays from her face. She wore brown ankle length woolen skirts layered over a boned sleeveless bodice and a roll over her bottom, an apron tied over everything indicating a long day of work ahead. She stood near the open green door inside the great room of the wooden house. The crowd of twenty tourists listened to her speech, snapping pictures of the steep pitched two-gabled roof, the overhanging second story, the diamond-paned casement windows, the red bricks of the large central chim
