“Get some rest now,” the woman said before leaving. She hadn’t told Miriam her name or where she was. She lay down again and dozed, and when she awoke, Dr. Elzinga was there.

“Christina! Mrs. Woltheim told me your fever had broken. I’m so pleased.” He sat on the edge of her bed and listened to her chest, then her back before nodding his head and declaring, “Better. Much, much better.”

“Where am I? What hospital is this?”

“It’s not a hospital; it’s called Meijers House. It’s a private institution for residents who are . . . simpleminded. It’s run by the two sisters who’ve been taking care of you. This is their infirmary.”

“So I’ll have to go back to the farm now that I’m well?” The thought brought panic and a feeling of claustrophobia, even though Lies and Julie and Betsie and Alie were pleasant companions. Mr. and Mrs. Mulder had been kind, the food meager but adequate.

“I’ve found donors who’ll pay for you to remain here for a time,” he said, putting his instruments back in his bag.

“Donors? I don’t understand.”

“Many of my countrymen want to help but aren’t able to hide people for various reasons. Their generosity helps others like you to remain in hiding. They’ll pay your room and board, for now, as if you were one of the residents. But we aren’t entirely certain if the people who come and go here, making deliveries or visiting the residents, can be trusted —including the cook, a cleaning woman, and the laundress who come from town during the day. Until you’re fully well and we can find another hiding place, you’ll need to pretend you’re mentally crippled like the other residents.” In her weakened state, she didn’t think that would be too difficult.

Miriam moved into the main part of the house when she was finally well enough and began helping with the other residents. Mrs. Woltheim and her sister, Miss Meijers, known to the residents as Miss Hannie and Miss Willy, were kind, hardworking women who ran Meijers House like their home and treated the residents like their children. “Willy and I grew up in this house,” Mrs. Woltheim told Miriam. “My husband left me after our son Frits was born because I refused to send him to an institution. Frits and I moved back here with Willy, who’d never married, and we cared for our parents until they died. When money grew tight and we could no longer afford to pay the bills, we turned Meijers House into a home for other children and adults like my Frits and charged a fee for their care. We’d like to think that it’s a home and not a cold institution.”