Mrs. Bedlow looked at Lyddie wryly. “They already know, and there’s no guarantee they’ll keep their peace.”

“I’ll beg ’em—”

“No need to coop her up more than necessary. She can come down with me during the day. I’ll have Tim help her with her letters and numbers in the afternoon. She ought to be in school herself.”

“She will be, Mrs. Bedlow. She will be. Soon as I can get things worked out. I swear upon my life—”

“You need to watch your language, my girl. Set an example for the little one.”

“I thank you, Mrs. Bedlow. You’ll not be sorry, I promise.”

She wrote Charlie that night after curfew in the flickering light of a forbidden stub of candle.

Dear Brother Charles,

I hope you are well. I am sorry to trouble you with sad news, but Uncle Judah come tonight to Lowell and brung Rachel to me. They have put our mother to the asylum at Brattleboro. Now they are thinking to sell the farm. You must go and stop them. You are the man of the family. Judah won’t pay me no mind. They got to listen to you. I got more than one hundred dollars to the det. Do not let them sell, Charlie. I beg you. I don’t know what to do with Rachel. Children are not allowed in corporation house. If I can I will take her home, but I got to have a home to go to. It is up to you, Charlie. Please I beg you stop Uncle Judah.

Yr. loving sister,

Lydia Worthen

She could hardly keep her mind on her work. What was the use of it all anyway if the farm was gone? But it couldn’t be! Not after all her sweating and saving. And what was she to do with Rachel? The child hadn’t spoken a word since her arrival. She hadn’t even cried. She seemed more dead than alive. And precious time must be spent finding her a place to stay and precious money put out for her keep—more if she was to go to school. Why couldn’t the child work in the spinning room? There were Irish children down there who looked no older than seven or eight. They were earning their own way. Hadn’t Lyddie herself been working hard since she was no more than a tadpole? And doffing wasn’t as hard as farm work. Why those children hardly worked fifteen minutes out of the hour, just taking off the full spools and replacing them with empty ones. Then they just sat in the corner and played or chatted. Sometimes from the window on a clear day Lyddie had seen them running about the mill yard playing tag or marbles. It was an easy life compared to the farm, and still Rachel would be out of mischief and earning her own way.