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Dorothy said. “I’ll be down shortly. Leave us to dress.”
    Papa nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then he turned and left.
    Abigail climbed from the bed. Quietly, so as not to wake Franny, she slipped on her homespun dress and tied an apron over it. Dorothy, too, dressed hurriedly. She bundled her long hair into her cap and strode from the room.
    Abigail finished washing her face and then walked toward her parents’ bedroom. Inside, she could hear the low murmur of voices. She went to the door.
    Papa was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed. Mama, flushed with fever, was holding his hand.
    “Now, Francis,” she said softly, “please do not blame yourself for my condition. It might have been that I would have sickened anyway. I had not felt right the last few days.”
    Papa drew Mama’s hand to his lips. Abigail saw him press a kiss into her palm.
    “I am not worthy of you, Hannah,” he whispered.
    “Hush, Francis,” Mama said. “Do not say such things.”
    Then she looked up and saw Abby standing in the doorway.
    “Go, Francis,” she said. “Abigail is here. Go on out and take Paul. I will be well watched over, and I shall be myself again before the morrow.”
    Papa rose, his eyes not leaving Mama’s. He bent and quickly kissed her on the forehead. He walked toward Abigail. “Will you call me, Abby, should she worsen?” he asked.
    Abigail nodded, even as she felt her anger rise. If Mama worsened,
he
was the cause! But could he have helped it? Abby had to stop these angry feelings. She knew they were wrong. He was her father, and she should respect him.
    Papa patted Abby’s head and left the room.
    Mama smiled weakly at her. “Come, Abby,” she said. “Sit by me. There is much weaving and spinning we must attend to today, and Dorothy has to be sure to put bread in early this morning.”
    “Mama, please do not concern yourself withhousehold duties,” Abigail said, pulling up a chair beside her mother. “Dorothy and I can handle things.”
    Mama smiled again. “I know you can, Bear.”
    Her eyes closed. “And being quite aware of that fact, I will rest awhile. I am weary, Bear, very weary.”
    Mama was soon sleeping, but the sleep was not restful. She tossed and turned, moaning slightly. Sarah brought breakfast, leaving it on the bedside table. She did not say a word to Abigail, but Abby was too preoccupied with her mother to be concerned about that today.
    Dorothy came upstairs midmorning. She pushed aside the bed curtains and reached over to touch Mama’s forehead. Her face fell.
    “She is burning with fever,” Dorothy said. “Would that I could go and fetch Doctor Cushman. But Franny and Edward need looking after, the fire and the bread need tending, and Mama needs you beside her.”
    “Why can’t you send Sarah for the doctor?” Abigail asked.
    “Sarah is leaving us. She has made it plain that she doesn’t wish to be in a household where the master is taken with fits and the children with indecent acts.”
    Abigail stared at Dorothy. “Can Sarah truly believe this is an evil household?” she asked. “Mama has been so kind to her. We all have.”
    “Aye,” Dorothy said scornfully, “but I believe she tends to forget our kindnesses.”
    Mama sat up suddenly, her eyes unfocused.
    “Mama?” Dorothy asked.
    But Mama said nothing. She did not seem to notice Abigail and Dorothy in the room. She pulled the bedsheets up about her, shivering, and her eyes grew wide and frightened.
    “Nay!” Mama screamed out. “Nay, I will not come!”
    Abigail jumped at the suddenness of the outburst. She and Dorothy stared in horror at Mama, whose eyes were rolling about. Her head swayed back and forth.
    “It must be the fever,” Abby whispered, trying to convince herself.
    “Run, quickly,” Dorothy whispered back. “Run for Papa, Abigail. Tell him Mama worsens.”
    Abigail gathered up her skirts. She ran toward the door and into the hallway, where she saw