Diana raised an eyebrow, but Rachel and Brigid were at the door with the tea, so she said nothing more.

I’ll pretend, thought Lyddie, as she tried to unsnarl her brain over the steaming cup, I’ll pretend I was crazy from the fever and didn’t know what I was doing—can’t even remember what I did.

*  *  *

“I want to be a doffer, Lyddie,” Rachel said. Lyddie had brushed her sister’s curls and was weaving them into plaits. Rachel wanted to pin her hair up like the big girls in the house, but Lyddie insisted that the braids hang down. She couldn’t bear for Rachel to look like a funny little make-believe woman. “Brigid says her little sister is a doffer and she’s no bigger than me.”

“Oh Rachel. You need to go to school.” She loved to braid Rachel’s hair, but was suddenly ashamed that she had only string to bind it with. She should have splurged on a bit of ribbon. Rachel was so pretty, for all her being too thin. She ought to have bright bows to set off the two silky curls at the end of each plait. They would brighten her drab little dress. But ribbons cost money, and string bound the hair just as well. She twisted each curl around her index finger and gave it a final brush. “We got to get you into school. You don’t want to grow ignorant as your Lyddie.”

“You ain’t ignorant a-tall. I seed you read.”

“You want I should read to you, Rachie?”

“No. I want you should let me be a doffer.”

“We’ll have to wait and see, ey? When we hear from Charlie …”

But they didn’t hear from Charlie. They heard from Quaker Stevens.

Dear Sister Worthen,

Thy brother asked me to look into the sale of thy farm. All inquiry has come to naught, but as I have business in thy uncle’s neighborhood on Wednesday next, I will inquire directly at that time. I trust thee and the little one are in good health. Son Luke asks to be remembered to thee.

Thy friend and neighbor,

Jeremiah Stevens

She tried not to feel angry at Charlie for not writing to her himself. He had, after all, done the sensible thing. To the law and their uncle, they were only children. Judah would have to listen to Quaker Stevens. He was a man of substance. She was glad to know that Luke had gotten safely home. She had finally realized that the freight he had come to fetch was human.

The letter meant, though, that she could wait no longer. Something would have to be done about Rachel. The promised fortnight had passed, and she must go back to work herself on the morrow. She sent Rachel to the bedroom, stuffed the letter in her apron pocket, and went into the kitchen.