Only Lily was at work, having a will that needed altering for one of Archie’s clients by the morning. It was not a complicated task—a name razed out, another substituted, and the changing of a number. She did not allow herself to think who might be injured in the process. She preferred instead to twist it in her mind and think that she perhaps was helping someone who had been unjustly barred from an inheritance that they were rightly owed. That made it easier.

The first time she had realized that the documents she wrote and changed for Archie were not done in play, but real, and had real consequences, she had gone in tears to Barbara. “It is wrong,” she’d said. “It is a sin, like stealing, and I will be punished for it.”

Barbara had held her, and dried her eyes. “My work’s a sin as well, but it is only work, and it is what we need do to put bread on our table. Ye think that the men in high places, the men in our government who make the laws, never break them? They cloak it in righteousness, but aye, they murder and steal, and their sins are far blacker than yours,” Barbara promised her. “God kens your heart, Lily. Give him your prayers and be good in all other ways. He will forgive ye.”

Lily knew He’d have much to forgive.

By the time she had finished her work on the will, Matthew was nearing the end of his chapter.

He and Maggie were reading their way through The History of the Most Renowned Don Quixote of La Mancha: And His Trusty Squire Sancho Panza—a newer English edition that was richly illustrated with engravings.

As he finished reading, Maggie sighed, her eyes upon the picture. “But she wasn’t a real princess, she was just a maid.”

“He fought for her, regardless,” Matthew said.

“I still wish she had been a princess.”

Matthew smiled. “Perhaps she was, in secret.”

Maggie brightened. “Truly?”

“Aye. In life,” he told her, “nothing is impossible.” He closed their book and gave it to her. “Here, you put that back, and fetch the red one from the shelf beside it. No, the taller red one. That’s my lass. Now, what date was that published?”

Maggie turned the pages. “It’s in funny numbers.”

“Roman numerals,” Matthew said. “And you can read them, don’t pretend you can’t. I taught you.” Patiently, he waited while she worked them through.

She told him, “Sixteen eighty-eight.”

“And what year were you born, then?”

“Sixteen eighty-nine.”

“Right.” Matthew took the red book from the little girl and in an expert motion tore out one of the blank end pages. “So now you have a paper of the proper age,” he said to Maggie. “Some papers have marks on if you hold them to the light, so you can’t use one that was made after the date you’re needing. Now you only need to add the writing.”

Archie commented, “And what now would ye have me do when someone else does need that page?”