BooksBarbecue
Back Lyddie
Chapters (36)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Books by Katherine Paterson
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. Acknowledgments
  29. Dear Reader
  30. Pre-reading Activities
  31. Week One (Chapters 1–6)
  32. Week Two (Chapters 7–12)
  33. Week Three (Chapters 13–18)
  34. Week Four (Chapters 19–23)
  35. Post-reading Activities
  36. What’s next onyour reading list?

What made her do it? Illness? Desperation? She’d never know. But she raised her booted foot and stomped her heel down with all her might. He gave a cry, and, dropping his arms, doubled over. It was all the time she needed. She stumbled down the stairs and across the yard, nearly falling at last into the door of Number Five. He had not tried to follow.

*  *  *

She did not go to work the next day or for many days thereafter. Her fever raged, and she was out of her mind with it. Once, she realized that someone was putting a cold cloth on her forehead, and she raised her arm to bring it down over her burning eyelids. A tiny cool hand rested on her hot one and stroked it timidly. Somewhere, at a great distance, she heard a small voice croon: “There, there.” And then her heavy arm was lifted and put back gently under the quilt.

Dr. Morris was summoned. She tried to protest. She couldn’t waste money on doctors, but if the words came out at all, they came out too thickly for anyone to understand.

The bell rang, but it was far away now. It no longer rang for her. People came in and out of the darkened room. Sometimes Mrs. Bedlow was spooning broth into her, sometimes another of the boarders. Diana was there, and Brigid, though who would have sent for them?

Brigid had brought some Irish concoction that Mrs. Bedlow seemed to be trying to refuse, but the girl would not leave until she had been allowed to spoon some of it into the patient’s mouth. And always, whenever Lyddie swam up the fiery pool out into consciousness, she knew that Rachel was there beside her.

She’ll get sick, Lyddie tried to protest. Make her go away. Or move me to the infirmary. She’s too frail. But either she never got the words out, or no one could or would understand, for whenever she was in her right mind, Rachel was there.

*  *  *

She woke one morning with a start. The bell was clanging, banging away at her dully aching head. She sat up abruptly. The room swooped and dipped about her. More slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, but when she tried to stand, she fell over like a newborn calf. “Rachel,” she called. “Help me. I got to go to work.”

Rachel raised up from the other bed. “You’re awake!” she cried. “Lyddie, you didn’t die!”

She fell back onto her pillow. “No,” she said weakly. “Not yet. We can stil hop.”

17

Doffer