But Bernard was an easy baby, especially compared to her own sister Hester, who was often as fretful as a newborn although she was a year older than Bernard. He was cheerful when awake and reliably sleepy at nap time, and although he was beginning to walk and had to be watched every minute, Henrietta had no trouble tending to him, helping with the housework, and then delving into the letters and papers. It was like school but even more interesting, and when Izzy described an enormous shipment of mules or the bitterns he’d seen in a swamp, she promised herself that someday she’d see similar things. Her father had taken her to different places around Crooked Lake, also a few times to Corning and Bath and twice to Rochester, once to Syracuse: but that was it. So perhaps it wasn’t just the bounty, then; perhaps Izzy and Vic had enlisted last summer just to see something beyond this chunk of central New York.

Aurie said that if her husband’s parents were still alive they never would have let the two brothers join up and she wished they hadn’t, the pottery was impossible to run without their help. She was slight but strong, queasily pregnant, and so grateful for Henrietta’s presence after school and on Saturdays that Henrietta found her tasks easy. Wash the dishes, scrape carrots, change and entertain and feed Bernard, whom Aurie claimed had weaned himself by simply refusing her breast one day, and who already ate, obligingly, oatmeal, eggs, and mashed peas. How he’d come into existence was a whole other question.

Meanwhile Henrietta ferried cups of tea as Aurie glazed bisqueware or painted underglaze decorations. She fetched and carried for Mr. Deverell as he wedged clay (a good time for questions) or (the worst time, very bad) unloaded the kiln. Twice each afternoon, a pointless task but she had to try, she swept the hall and the kitchen clear of the dust tracked in from the pottery. Then, when Bernard was napping and Aurie was painting flowers on bowls, she read and organized the letters and made lists of new questions. The notebook her father had given her was dark green, the size of a prayer book, and she carried it everywhere.