Lyddie stood there, openmouthed, looking from Diana’s thin face to the other woman’s robust one. Too late. She’d come too late. She was always too late. Too late to save the farm. Too late to keep her family together. Too late to do for Diana the only thing she knew to do.

“We’d better get you back to Number Five,” Diana was saying. Like she was some helpless child who needed tending. “You wouldn’t want to be late.”

They hurried down the dimly lit streets toward the Concord boardinghouses without speaking. Lyddie wanted to explain—to say she was sorry, to somehow make it up to Diana—but she didn’t know how to do it.

As they neared Number Five, Diana broke the silence. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Oh Diana, I come too late.”

“You came as soon as you could.”

“I’m always too late to do any good.”

“Lyddie …” Diana was hesitating. “I’ll miss you.”

What was she saying? “I ain’t going nowhere. I’ll be right here. Next year and the next.”

“No. I’m the one who’ll be leaving.”

“But where would you be going?” Diana had always said that the mill was her family.

“Boston, I think.”

“I don’t understand. Are you ailing?”

“Lyddie, if I don’t leave soon—right away, in fact—I’ll be dismissed.”

“It’s because of the cussed petition. They’re trying to get you—”

“No. Not that. I wish it were.” They had stopped walking and stood several yards away from the steps of Number Five. They both watched the heavy door swing open and glimpsed the light inside as two girls hurried in to beat the final bell. “It’s because … Oh Lyddie, don’t despise me …”

“I could never do that!” How could Diana say such a thing?

“Lyddie, I’ve been, oh, I don’t know—foolish? wicked?”

“What are you talking about? You could never be—”

“Oh, yes.” She was silent for a moment as though sifting the words she needed from the chaff of her thoughts. “I’m going to have a child, Lyddie.”

“A what?” Her voice had dropped to a stunned whisper. She tried to search Diana’s features, but it was too dark to read her expression. “Who done this to you?” she asked finally.

“Oh Lyddie, no one ‘done’ it to me.”

“Then he’ll marry you, ey?”

“He—he’s not free to marry. There’s a wife … in Concord. She wouldn’t come to live here in a factory town. Though her father is one of the owners.” Diana’s laugh was short and harsh.

It was that doctor. Lyddie was sure of it. He looked so kind and gentle and all the time … “But what will you do?” She could hear now the shrillness in her voice. She tried to tone it down. “Where can you go?”