“You’re busy,” he said. “I don’t mean to hinder you.”

It was a stupid conversation. But both the cook and Willie were in the kitchen, and the mistress would be in and out. How could they say anything that mattered?

“Have you been to home at all?” she asked, turning back to her work and motioning him to sit on a low stool beside her.

“No,” he said. “Nor you, ey?”

She shook her head. She wanted to tell him about the money. How she wanted to get it safely home. Ask him what she should do, but she couldn’t, of course, with others about.

“I saw Luke a few times,” he said. “He’s been up once or twice to look at the farm. The house is fine.” He lowered his voice. “He had a bit of a laugh about the way we blocked the door. He had to climb in the window.”

She didn’t like the idea of Luke or anyone else climbing in the window. It made the cabin seem less secure. A coon or a bear might climb through the window as well, or a tramp. But she didn’t comment.

“Do they work you hard?” she asked softly. He looked so small and thin.

“They’re fair. The miller works as hard as any of us hands. The food is plenty and good.”

Then why aren’t you bigger? she wanted to ask him, but she held her tongue.

After he had gone, she thought of a hundred things she wished she had said. She could have told him about the frogs, if she’d remembered to. He would have laughed, and she longed to hear his laugh. She was much lonelier after he went. His presence for an hour had rubbed off some of her protection, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. He had left about noon, carrying some bread and cheese Triphena had pressed on him for his journey. He was wearing snowshoes that looked nearly as long as he was tall. Suppose it began to snow before he got back safely? Suppose he got lost? She tried to shake off her anxieties. Would someone let her know if something were to happen to him? It would be days, for they would let her mother know first, and then she might or might not write to Lyddie. It was too hard being separated like this. It was not right.

“The weather will hold, ey?” Triphena said, reading her mind. Lyddie sighed deeply. “You’re worse than a little mother,” the woman chided, but her eyes were softer than usual.