“But I canna forget,” Brigid cried out. “Me mother sick unto death and no money for a doctor.”

“Here!” She snatched all the change from her apron pocket and stuffed it into Brigid’s. “Here. That’s for the doctor. Now—mind the machine, ey?”

The next few days went better than those before. She coaxed a few words from Rachel, and the suggestion of a smile, when she read aloud from the book of verses.

“Doctor Foster went to Gloucester

In a shower of rain;

He stepped in a puddle

Right up to his middle,

And never went there again.”

“Well,” said Lyddie, “that’s mud season in Vermont, ey?” And Rachel smiled. Encouraged, Lyddie tried to make a rhyme for Rachel herself.

“Uncle Judah went to Bermuda

In the April rain

He sunk in the ooze

Right up to his snooze

And never was heard of again.”

This time there was no mistaking the smile.

Work was going better as well. Brigid was pathetically grateful for her gift. She beat Lyddie to work in the mornings and had two of the machines oiled and gleaming before Lyddie even entered the room.

Mr. Marsden was very pleased. By Thursday, he smiled across the room continually. Lyddie resolved not to glance his way, but she could see without looking the little rosebud mouth fixed in its prissy bow.

How hot the room seemed. Of course it was always hot and steamy, but somehow … Perhaps if she hadn’t been burning up she could have kept her head, but she was so hot, so exhausted that Thursday in May, she wasn’t prepared, she had no defenses. He stopped her and made her wait until everyone had gone—just when she felt she must lie down or faint, he stopped her and put both his fat white hands heavily on either sleeve, dragging his weight on her arms. He was saying something as well, but her head was pounding and she couldn’t make it out. What did he want with her? She had to go. She had to see Rachel. Her whole body was on fire. She needed a cool cloth for her head. And yet he kept holding on to her. She tried to stare him down, but her eyes were burning in their sockets. Let me go! She wanted to cry. She tried to pull back from him, but he clutched tighter. He was bringing his strange little mouth closer and closer to her fiery face.

She murmured something about not feeling well, but it made his eyes grow soft and his arm go all around her shoulder.