Ellen knew Harry well enough to know he was still worried about Mary; she had seen it in his face when he said he was going to fetch the doctor. She shook her head. ‘Not Thomas,’ she said. ‘He’s too much for her. Besides, I have to feed him. Just tek Sarah. She’s no bother.’

Sarah was weaned but Mary and Thomas were not; he was a greedy and demanding child and would scream if he was hungry and her milk wasn’t readily available.

‘But Mary needs feeding too. Isn’t it a risk?’

‘I’ll bathe with carbolic,’ she said briskly. Women understood these things; she wouldn’t risk passing on infection between her children. ‘And I’ll wean Mary on to a bottle.’

Harry dressed Sarah in her coat and bonnet and told her they were going to see Granny Randell and she went with him quite happily. He returned in half an hour to say that his sister Meg had just weaned her latest child and had said she would wet-nurse Thomas if Ellen agreed.

Ellen raised her eyebrows and thought Meg might regret the offer, as Thomas could bite with his sharp little teeth, but she was too grateful to demur. It meant she could now concentrate solely on Mary, who coughed and wheezed and was still very lethargic and sleepy in her arms.

When Harry came back after delivering Thomas to his willing aunt he found both Ellen and Mary fast asleep, at least he hoped Mary was only asleep. He put his fingers near to her mouth to feel if she was still breathing; she stirred slightly and gave a little cough but didn’t wake.

He tiptoed to the fire and shook the kettle to make sure there was water in it before placing it over the coals, then sat down in the other fireside chair and gazed at Ellen and Mary. He should have been at work; he had only come home because he wanted to ask Ellen something, and had found her in the middle of a crisis, with a sick child and a screaming toddler. Now she was fast asleep, strands of hair escaping from the bonnet that she hadn’t had time to take off.

The kettle began to steam. Quietly, he opened a cupboard to take out two cups and a teapot and made tea. Ellen began to stir, and he tiptoed out of the room to fetch a jug of milk from the scullery. When he returned, Ellen was awake and looked at him sleepily.

‘Goodness,’ she murmured. ‘What am I doing sleeping during the day?’

‘A lady of leisure, you are,’ he joked softly, so as not to waken Mary. ‘A manservant making you a pot of tea! Whatever is ’world coming to?’

‘It’s not the right order of things, is it? Especially for a man who was spoiled by all his sisters.’