Faith sniffed loudly as she dried her eyes and stood up. “Oh, that dreadful Dryditch Fever. Wot did we ever do wrong that made fortune visit it upon our Abbey? Pore Mr. Burrley, he were such a gentle ol’ mole. Ah well, tears won’t make anythin’ aright. I’d best make meself busy. There’s lunch t’ be made an’ sickbeasts to care for. Now don’t you sit out ’ere too long, my Tudd. Go an’ ’ave a nap in your chair. You still ain’t well enough t’ be out an’ about.”

Tudd pulled himself up shakily on his walking stick and hobbled alongside Faith toward the Abbey. “I’ll go an’ set awhile in the cellar among the barrels. That’s where me ’n’ Burrley sat yarnin’ many an ’ot afternoon. Oh, smash my prickles! I wish it’d been me as was taken, an’ not that good ol’ mole feller.”

The Abbey door opened and Foremole trundled out with his crew, bearing with them the sad little bundle that had been their friend Burrley. Foremole wiped his eyes on a spotted kerchief and tugged his snout respectfully to the two hedgehogs.

“Burr, ’tis a sad morn oi bid ’ee, guddbeasts. Us’ns will ’ave ol’ Burrley putten to rest at late noontoid. Will ’ee tell everbeast within ’ee Abbey?”

Tudd patted the bundle and nodded brokenly. “Thankee, Foremole. I’ll let ’em all know. They’ll want t’ be at Burrley’s last restin’. He were greatly loved by all.”

*   *   *

In the Infirmary and the upper gallery the beds were packed end to end. Abbess Vale and Furgle the Hermit hovered anxiously about Brother Hollyberry’s bed, mopping his brow and rubbing his paws. Hollyberry lay still, his old face thin and ashen. Vale pawed her girdle cord distractedly.

“Oh, Furgle, can’t you do anything to snap him out of it?”

“I wish I could, Abbess.” The woodvole Hermit shrugged helplessly. “Hollyberry is in a deep faint. I know naught of such things. If he goes any deeper we’ll surely lose him.”

Bremmun levered himself weakly up off his pillows. “Ooooh, I’m aching all over! Don’t even think of losing Brother Hollyberry—only he knows how to mix the medicine that’s keeping us all alive. If he goes then who will be able to make it?”

Thrugann had been bathing little Droony’s brow. She hurried over and hushed Bremmun. “Keep yore voice down, squirrel. These sick creatures got enough t’ worry about without you startin’ off a panic!”

Abbess Vale grasped the otter’s paw beseechingly. “You’d know how to make the medicine, Thrugann. You collected the herbs for Bremmun. Surely he told you how to blend them together?”

“Oh, Abbess, marm, I only wish he had.” Thrugann shook her head sadly. “I can find herbs an’ pick ’em, but make ’em into medicine, never!”