Evanline.
“As soon as this pestilence is known to the parish authorities, they will come and shut us up,” Mrs. Philips continued. They will board up the house. They will station watchmen at the door. We will not be allowed to pass, and half of us—more—will be dead within the month.” She stuffed a hand into her mouth to stifle a sob, walked into her own room and slammed the door on him. He heard her turning out drawers.
He went back to his room. Dickon lifted the pamphlet. “Guts!” he said brightly.
“Pack,” Coke commanded, and began to scurry. Dickon joined him. In sooth, it did not take them long. Two years he’d lived there, the longest he’d lived any place since the wars, and all packed up in less than twenty minutes. All they could not carry easily about them they flung into his trunk.
