A few weeks earlier, an unsigned letter had been slipped under Dunne’s door, explaining that Buck had exposed Hazel’s lie and threatened to take Ruby. The letter mentioned that Maeve, a midwife, had recently gotten her ticket of leave; if Dunne took Ruby in, perhaps he could employ Maeve to take care of her until Hazel was released from the crime yard.

Dunne made an appointment with the warden at the Queen’s Orphan School and presented himself as Ruby’s father, Dr. Frum. The warden seemed relieved to release her to his care; she was sickly, he said, and needed medical attention the orphanage couldn’t provide. One fewer death on the ledger was always a good thing. As soon as Dunne saw the child, it was clear to him that she had typhoid. He brought her back to the cottage and set up a nursery in a sunny room facing the garden, then hired Maeve, who lived in a boardinghouse on Macquarie Street. The two of them slowly nursed Ruby back to health. Before long, Maeve was helping out with the details of his practice: organizing surgical implements, stripping cloth into bandages, meeting with patients. She wasn’t literate but could remember every detail of a patient’s complaint.

“I can’t believe how big Ruby has gotten,” Dunne said to Hazel. “These years have flown.”

“For you, perhaps,” she said.

The next morning, Hazel stood at the entrance to the Cascades with the other assignables who had ongoing placements. When Dunne arrived, she climbed into his buggy without a word.

Ruby was waiting on the front stoop when they got to the cottage. “You’re here!” she cried.

Hazel wanted to shout to the rooftops, to sweep Ruby into her arms. But she didn’t. “Of course I am,” she said nonchalantly, getting down from the buggy. “I promised I’d be back, and here I am.”

All day long, the two of them played seek-and-find, built fairy houses in the back garden out of sticks and leaves, read stories and drank sweet tea in the kitchen.

Hazel could hardly believe her good fortune. She would get to spend entire days with Ruby. She would get to be her mother.

On the floor of Ruby’s bedroom sat a large dollhouse. Dunne had seen it in a shop window, he said, and couldn’t resist. It was three stories tall and had many rooms, with servants’ quarters at the top.

“Let’s play,” Ruby said to Hazel. “I’ll be the lady. You be the maid.”

“May I come downstairs, please, madam?” Hazel asked in a high voice, her thumb and forefinger around the doll in the attic. “It’s so dark up here.”

“No,” Ruby said as the lady of the house. “You must be punished.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“You talked too much at supper. And ran down the hallway.”

“How long must I stay up here?”

“For two days. And if you are very naughty, you will be beaten with a cane.”

“Oh.” A cane. Hazel’s heart froze. “But I am all alone. How could I be naughty?”