Alinor laughed at Alys’s offended expression. “Well, at least they’ve no objection.”

“As long as I’ve got my dowry. That’s all she cares about.” She paused. “They said you’re to come and stay with me, when I’m near to my time. You’ll have to be with me, Ma, when I have my baby.”

“I hope so,” Alinor said slowly. “I pray for it, Alys. I am hoping and praying for us both, all the time.”

“Why don’t you send a message to this man? Why doesn’t he come and make everything right, if he loves you as you say?”

“He will come,” Alinor said steadily. “I don’t have to send for him. He will be coming as fast as he can.”

In the morning, Red, the ferry-house dog, did not get out of his corner and sit on the pier to watch the ferry, as he usually did.

“And we had a fox,” Alinor scolded him. “Are you getting lazy?”

The dog looked at her with his ale-brown eyes and turned away. Alinor put her hand on his head. “Oh, no, Red,” she said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed as if he would speak to her. Alinor took his broad head in both hands and looked at him as she would one of her patients.

“Won’t you wait till Ned comes home?” she whispered.

He stirred his feathery tail and then turned around three times and lay down. Alinor stroked his soft forehead where his frown wrinkled the fur, and let him stay in his bed.

Alys pulled the icy rope of the ferry as Alinor crossed the mire at low tide to go to work at the mill. It was bitterly cold, the ground slippery with frost. The sandbanks in the mire were white as snow.

“Get back in the warm,” Alinor said to her daughter. “And take care on the water.”

Alys’s face was white with cold, her mittened hands gripping the rope. “I’m fine,” she said. “You mind that you don’t slip.”

Mrs. Miller arranged the work of the farm and house so that she and her little boy, Peter, and daughter, Jane, stayed indoors in bad weather and sent her maid-of-all-work and Alinor into the cold. Alinor started in the barn where the cows were waiting patiently in their stalls. She took a three-legged stool down from the hook and set it beside the first cow, leaning her forehead against the warm flank, talking quietly to her, as she pulled on the udders, alternating her hands, and the milk hissed into the pail. It was so cold in the barn, the milk steamed and Alinor sniffed the rich creamy smell, longing to drink it. She carried the heavy pail to the dairy, and poured it into a bowl to separate for churning into butter later.

“I’ll thank you to check the dovecot for eggs.” Mrs. Miller poked her head into the icy dairy. “And after that, you can go home. I won’t need you for anything this afternoon.”