The other girls in the parlor tittered. Even Lyddie tried to smile, but Rachel was indignant. “She’s not mean. She’s going to buy me ribbons,” she declared. “Come on, Lyddie,” she added, taking her hand. “Let’s go read the book you bought me.”

The girls laughed again, but more gently. They had never cared much for Lyddie, whom they knew to be close with her money and her friendships, but Rachel was rapidly becoming their pet.

How dry her life had been before Rachel came. It was like springs of water in the desert to have her here. She kissed her head that night before she tucked her in. “You don’t think your Lyddie is a cheap old spinster, ey?”

Rachel was furious all over again. “You’re the best sister in the world!”

Lyddie blew out the candle. She lay listening to Rachel’s even breathing and heard in her memory the sounds of birds in the spring woods. If only she could hear from Charlie, Lyddie’s happiness would be complete. The money was growing again. She had nearly caught up with the wages lost by her illness, and even though Rachel made only a pittance, it paid her room and board. She had seldom been happier.

She woke in the night, puzzled. She thought she had heard Betsy again—that wretched hacking sound that sawed through her rib cage straight into her heart. And then she was wide awake and knew it to be Rachel.

*  *  *

It was only a cold. Surely it was nothing. She would be over it in a week. See, the child seemed bright-eyed and lively as ever. If she were sick, really sick … Lyddie kept the knowledge of the night cough tight inside herself, but the fear grew like a tumor. She began to lie awake listening for the awful sound, until finally, she knew she must send the child away—anywhere, just so she was not breathing this poison air.

It will break my heart to send the child away. Lyddie could not bear the thought. It might break Rachel’s heart as well. She has been sent away too often in her short life. Look, she dotes on me. Me, tough and mean as I be. She clings to me more than she ever did our mother. She needs me.

Lyddie did not know what to do, and she was too terrified to ask. No one must know. She fed Rachel the pills Brigid had brought her. She had no faith in them, but she must try. She fixed plasters for the child’s chest, trying to turn it into a game, desperate to hide her own terror. And she was succeeding, wasn’t she? Rachel seemed happy as ever and carefree as a kitten. Caught in a spasm of coughing, she made light of it. “Silly cough,” she said. “All the girls have them.”