"Er, no Ma'am..." said Clem Willard with slight awkwardness, "...that barrel's for storing the fish in before the buyer comes"
and seeing the shapely little woman halt her disrobing, secretly wondered if he'd spoken too soon. Dawn had just broken and
deciding to rise early in order to retrieve his precious jewel bestowed to him by Gretna Grindylow, the young man had found
his family's new visitor already out of her weird sleeping arrangement and preparing to take her morning wash.
The sun wasn't strong enough to chase the shadows from beneath the stilted house yet and discovering a raised poncho and
revealing buttocks as he crept down the ladders, wasn't a regular sight for the blonde-haired teenager. " We...um, we use the
stream out-back for our ablutions" Clem added and with his obvious sexual-clumsiness showing, aimed his focus on showing
the staring woman the path that would lead down to the trickling source of food for the surrounding reedbeds.
Peggy Powler plucked her satchel from its overnight moorings and setting the strap onto her shoulder, followed the kid who'd
got a free early-morning eyeful. Replacing the lid of the wooden barrel, the little Witch wondered again about the secret this
boy carried and was unknowingly leaking.
Maybe the endowment to occasionally pick-up on a person's feelings had came from her mother's ability to read those who'd
entered her tent back at the Carnival or maybe it had been honed from her many interactions with people and their problems.
But whichever it was, the necromancer -who stood only chest-high to the lad leading the way, followed him through a corridor
of tall hollyhocks and absently discarded her musings as she now gazed at the serene scene of a tinkling waterfall and a quiet
secluded pool.
"Yer've been a kind lad te' show me where te' tek' me-wash, but iff'n yer' have a time, Ah'd like te' talk te' yer' about life around
here in Seamarshes" Peggy said as she twirled her finger to inform the cheek-flushed boy to turn around away from where she
was standing. Moments later, she added he could reverse her request and following the instruction, Clem's wide-eyes looked
upon the renown spell-worker his mother had whispered about last night, neck-deep in the peat-stained waters of the pool.
An indignant Dipper chirped and flapped its scorn at the trespass of its water-dripping domain and then went back to searching
for Mayfly larvae hiding out beneath the half-hearted cascade of the tired stream. Feeling the stone-coldness of the well-travelled
water revive her body, Peggy mentally set-out her tools to unpick the lock of Clem Willard's secret.
In a way, it contravened her vow to take a vacation and washing the sleep from her face, she recognised this. But the little voice
in her head had assured her whatever the boy was hiding, it was worth some time-out from her relaxation.
Another type of itch that must be scratched?
Reluctantly taking a seat on the grassy bank above the pool, Clem guessed his Ma was up and preparing breakfast due to the
whiff of smoke curling from the chimney of his home. That meant others from Seamarshes would be arriving to utilise the pool
for their morning-soak and so he told Miss Powler. "Your privacy won't be for long, Ma'am... Missus Trencher next-door will be
needing to wash soon and she's..." the flaxen-haired youth quickly checked that the old biddy wasn't approaching via the path,
"...she's a bit of a chatterbox" he imparted in a softer tone than previously.
Peggy rewarded Clem with a smile and a nod, "Aye, well iff'n yer'll be accommodating enough te' avert thee gaze once more,
Ah'll leave the pool as we found it" she replied, knowing that the word 'we' would now bind her and the lad in an obscure bond
of sorts. It wasn't much, but it was a little footstep closer to giving room for Clem to tell her what he was hiding. Plonking her
wide-brimmed hat on her head, Peggy breathed "that's better" and with it, notified the Willard boy that he could now look up
from examining the passage of a passing weevil. Clem did and once more, showed his features were constantly reacting to
something he was keeping bottled-up.
"So anyway..." the Last Witch of Underhill began, "...how de' yer' find livin' here in Seamarshes?" and casually placed her arm
through the space between his body and elbow. The act was another footfall to urge Clem to disgorge his hugger-mugger and
the charming smile that accompanied it wouldn't do any harm either.
The truth was that he simply wanted to get that jewel out of the fish's mouth before the trader from Flixton arrived, but this was
something he could never tell Miss Powler because of the next question that would doubtlessly follow. "It's okay, I guess" Clem
mumbled and rode the waves of embarrassment he felt of having the woman so close to him. Jenny Longyard had once done
a similar thing in the marketplace and held his hand. That night, sleep had avoided him like the Devil-pox.
"You don't mind if I run ahead to get the Gulper ready for Mister Fawkes, do you Miss Powler?" Clem asked as he very-lightly
pulled away from the mature female invading his personal space. Peggy ceded to herself that she was being a little cruel in
her antics and mirrored the boy's movements. "Chores, Clem... they're always there to do" she said resignedly and watched
him scamper away along the couloir of nodding flowers. "Ah'll have the bugger out of yer' yet" she whispered good-naturedly
and wondered if having breakfast with the Willards would be a bit too much.
.................................................................
She'd said her name was Muriel Gump and came from a little village called Mocking Bay, somewhere north along the coast.
But busily stacking the sacks of marrows onto his flatbed wagon, Saul Pritchard knew he had never heard of the place and
wondered just how far away it had to be for him to never sold his wares there. However, the heavily-built man tucked his cap
into his back-pocket and continued to display his pleasant side, after all, she was a bit of a looker.
"If it's work you're seeking, there's always something to do on my farm..." Saul grunted as he tossed the last bag onto the
carriage and walked towards the pulling-end of his vehicle. Daisy-Maisy -the mare his daughter had named a long time ago,
turned her head and watched the man who would be clicking his tongue between his teeth in a few moments, climb aboard
and take the reins.
"...Providing for a community is all-year-round thing" he added without looking back at the pretty middle-aged woman and for
a second, dared to imagine himself rolling in the hayloft with such a voluptuous damsel. However, Saul Pritchard -father of
three girls and husband to a straight-forward-thinking woman, couldn't stop the day-dream where his wife enters the barn
and grabs a pitchfork.
"Do you think Seamarshes could provide employment?" the stranger asked as she stood next to the creaking seat where the
saucy-thinking bumpkin now sat. "All I have is this ruby my mother gave me and I would gladly give you it for your counsel
and transport there" Muriel said softly and flicked her hair back in a provocative manner to drive-home the deal.
Saul marvelled at the small red stone sitting in her dainty hand for a moment, he saw the Gump woman tearing off his shirt
and licking her lips with relish. It took all he had not too faint from the sudden rush of sexual desire. "I... I suppose I could
take you along as far as Copper lane and from there it's just a short amble to Seamarshes" he gulped and tightened the
reins around his hands until they hurt.
With a smile that would haunt the farmer tonight, Muriel set the ruby on the wooden seat beside Saul's thigh and then quickly
strode around the rear of the flatbed. "You're a true gentleman Mister Pritchard..." the sultry woman said as she climbed aboard,
"...now tell me, what do you know about the people of Seamarshes?" Saul clicked at Daisy to get her walking and pulling his cap
from his back-pocket, tried to remember when he'd actually told her his name.
and seeing the shapely little woman halt her disrobing, secretly wondered if he'd spoken too soon. Dawn had just broken and
deciding to rise early in order to retrieve his precious jewel bestowed to him by Gretna Grindylow, the young man had found
his family's new visitor already out of her weird sleeping arrangement and preparing to take her morning wash.
The sun wasn't strong enough to chase the shadows from beneath the stilted house yet and discovering a raised poncho and
revealing buttocks as he crept down the ladders, wasn't a regular sight for the blonde-haired teenager. " We...um, we use the
stream out-back for our ablutions" Clem added and with his obvious sexual-clumsiness showing, aimed his focus on showing
the staring woman the path that would lead down to the trickling source of food for the surrounding reedbeds.
Peggy Powler plucked her satchel from its overnight moorings and setting the strap onto her shoulder, followed the kid who'd
got a free early-morning eyeful. Replacing the lid of the wooden barrel, the little Witch wondered again about the secret this
boy carried and was unknowingly leaking.
Maybe the endowment to occasionally pick-up on a person's feelings had came from her mother's ability to read those who'd
entered her tent back at the Carnival or maybe it had been honed from her many interactions with people and their problems.
But whichever it was, the necromancer -who stood only chest-high to the lad leading the way, followed him through a corridor
of tall hollyhocks and absently discarded her musings as she now gazed at the serene scene of a tinkling waterfall and a quiet
secluded pool.
"Yer've been a kind lad te' show me where te' tek' me-wash, but iff'n yer' have a time, Ah'd like te' talk te' yer' about life around
here in Seamarshes" Peggy said as she twirled her finger to inform the cheek-flushed boy to turn around away from where she
was standing. Moments later, she added he could reverse her request and following the instruction, Clem's wide-eyes looked
upon the renown spell-worker his mother had whispered about last night, neck-deep in the peat-stained waters of the pool.
An indignant Dipper chirped and flapped its scorn at the trespass of its water-dripping domain and then went back to searching
for Mayfly larvae hiding out beneath the half-hearted cascade of the tired stream. Feeling the stone-coldness of the well-travelled
water revive her body, Peggy mentally set-out her tools to unpick the lock of Clem Willard's secret.
In a way, it contravened her vow to take a vacation and washing the sleep from her face, she recognised this. But the little voice
in her head had assured her whatever the boy was hiding, it was worth some time-out from her relaxation.
Another type of itch that must be scratched?
Reluctantly taking a seat on the grassy bank above the pool, Clem guessed his Ma was up and preparing breakfast due to the
whiff of smoke curling from the chimney of his home. That meant others from Seamarshes would be arriving to utilise the pool
for their morning-soak and so he told Miss Powler. "Your privacy won't be for long, Ma'am... Missus Trencher next-door will be
needing to wash soon and she's..." the flaxen-haired youth quickly checked that the old biddy wasn't approaching via the path,
"...she's a bit of a chatterbox" he imparted in a softer tone than previously.
Peggy rewarded Clem with a smile and a nod, "Aye, well iff'n yer'll be accommodating enough te' avert thee gaze once more,
Ah'll leave the pool as we found it" she replied, knowing that the word 'we' would now bind her and the lad in an obscure bond
of sorts. It wasn't much, but it was a little footstep closer to giving room for Clem to tell her what he was hiding. Plonking her
wide-brimmed hat on her head, Peggy breathed "that's better" and with it, notified the Willard boy that he could now look up
from examining the passage of a passing weevil. Clem did and once more, showed his features were constantly reacting to
something he was keeping bottled-up.
"So anyway..." the Last Witch of Underhill began, "...how de' yer' find livin' here in Seamarshes?" and casually placed her arm
through the space between his body and elbow. The act was another footfall to urge Clem to disgorge his hugger-mugger and
the charming smile that accompanied it wouldn't do any harm either.
The truth was that he simply wanted to get that jewel out of the fish's mouth before the trader from Flixton arrived, but this was
something he could never tell Miss Powler because of the next question that would doubtlessly follow. "It's okay, I guess" Clem
mumbled and rode the waves of embarrassment he felt of having the woman so close to him. Jenny Longyard had once done
a similar thing in the marketplace and held his hand. That night, sleep had avoided him like the Devil-pox.
"You don't mind if I run ahead to get the Gulper ready for Mister Fawkes, do you Miss Powler?" Clem asked as he very-lightly
pulled away from the mature female invading his personal space. Peggy ceded to herself that she was being a little cruel in
her antics and mirrored the boy's movements. "Chores, Clem... they're always there to do" she said resignedly and watched
him scamper away along the couloir of nodding flowers. "Ah'll have the bugger out of yer' yet" she whispered good-naturedly
and wondered if having breakfast with the Willards would be a bit too much.
.................................................................
She'd said her name was Muriel Gump and came from a little village called Mocking Bay, somewhere north along the coast.
But busily stacking the sacks of marrows onto his flatbed wagon, Saul Pritchard knew he had never heard of the place and
wondered just how far away it had to be for him to never sold his wares there. However, the heavily-built man tucked his cap
into his back-pocket and continued to display his pleasant side, after all, she was a bit of a looker.
"If it's work you're seeking, there's always something to do on my farm..." Saul grunted as he tossed the last bag onto the
carriage and walked towards the pulling-end of his vehicle. Daisy-Maisy -the mare his daughter had named a long time ago,
turned her head and watched the man who would be clicking his tongue between his teeth in a few moments, climb aboard
and take the reins.
"...Providing for a community is all-year-round thing" he added without looking back at the pretty middle-aged woman and for
a second, dared to imagine himself rolling in the hayloft with such a voluptuous damsel. However, Saul Pritchard -father of
three girls and husband to a straight-forward-thinking woman, couldn't stop the day-dream where his wife enters the barn
and grabs a pitchfork.
"Do you think Seamarshes could provide employment?" the stranger asked as she stood next to the creaking seat where the
saucy-thinking bumpkin now sat. "All I have is this ruby my mother gave me and I would gladly give you it for your counsel
and transport there" Muriel said softly and flicked her hair back in a provocative manner to drive-home the deal.
Saul marvelled at the small red stone sitting in her dainty hand for a moment, he saw the Gump woman tearing off his shirt
and licking her lips with relish. It took all he had not too faint from the sudden rush of sexual desire. "I... I suppose I could
take you along as far as Copper lane and from there it's just a short amble to Seamarshes" he gulped and tightened the
reins around his hands until they hurt.
With a smile that would haunt the farmer tonight, Muriel set the ruby on the wooden seat beside Saul's thigh and then quickly
strode around the rear of the flatbed. "You're a true gentleman Mister Pritchard..." the sultry woman said as she climbed aboard,
"...now tell me, what do you know about the people of Seamarshes?" Saul clicked at Daisy to get her walking and pulling his cap
from his back-pocket, tried to remember when he'd actually told her his name.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.