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Sarah. From the way she stared at her, Abigail knew she hadheard Mama. Sarah turned and fled down the stairs with Abigail close on her heels.
    “Sarah!” Abby called.
    But Sarah did not turn around.
    “Watch after Edward,” Abigail yelled to Franny. “I’m going for Papa.”
    She ran after Sarah, out into the warm May air. Sarah looked back at Abigail, her eyes wide with fright. Abby wished she could follow her, calm her fears, and talk her into staying, for they needed her now more than ever, but she knew she must fetch Papa first. So Abigail turned and ran, her skirts up, toward Papa’s fields at the edge of town. This time, there was no pleasure in the running.

seven
    Later that day, Abigail sat doing her mending by the fire. Yet she couldn’t concentrate, and she pricked her finger with the needle several times. Crying out in frustration, she finally gave up and threw the mending into the basket. How she hated sewing!
    Franny came and put her head in Abby’s lap. “Will Mama be all right?” Franny asked.
    Abigail did not answer. She didn’t know what to say.
    Dorothy picked up Edward, who began to cry. He squirmed around in her arms, trying desperately to escape.
    “Hush,” Dorothy scolded. Yet Abigail saw her draw Edward near and kiss his head.
    Finally, there were footsteps on the stairs. Abigail rose from her place by the fire as Papa and Doctor Cushman descended.
    “I cannot tell you, Francis,” the doctor said. “Only the Lord knows for sure if she will come out of this. I fear the child may be having a bad time of it too.”
    Child?
Abigail thought.
What child?
And then she knew. Mama was pregnant again. It was probably why she had not been feeling right these past few days. Abby was concerned now not just for Mama but for her new brother or sister, as well. She knew that sometimes if a mother was taken with fever while pregnant, the child would not be right when born.
    The doctor went to the door and picked up his hat and cloak. “I will keep you in my prayers, Francis,” he said, “but there is naught that I can do for her now.” Then he left.
    Papa turned to his children. His face was drawn, his forehead creased with worry.
    “She will be better,” he whispered softly, as if to convince himself that it was true.
    No one said a word. Even Franny seemed to know that she shouldn’t ask questions now.
    “Come, Papa,” Dorothy said quietly. “Supper is ready. Abigail, go and call for Paul. Franny, wash your hands.”
    Abigail watched Dorothy carry Edward toward the table. Normally, she would have been angry at Dorothy for giving them all orders, but today she was glad for it. In commanding them all to keep busy, Dorothy had given them something to think about other than Mama.
    The weeks passed slowly. Abigail and Dorothy did the chores around the house, cooking and cleaning and washing and mending. Because Aunt Elizabeth had no children of her own to tend to, she was able to find time between her own household chores to come by and lend a hand as well. Yet every night, Abigail fell wearily into bed beside Dorothy, sleeping heavily until light poured in the leaded windows the next day. Never had she been so aware of the many difficult chores Sarah had handled.
    Grandpappy came daily for dinner, his eyes worried, his prayers at the supper table long. Papa went about his work quietly, but Abigail often saw him outside, his eyes turned toward their bedroomwindow. He brought Mama flowers daily, filling their bedroom with all her favorite kinds. One day he even rode all the way to Salem Town to bring Mama unusual teas and a fancy plate from England, items that must have cost him much.
    Abigail realized he was torn up inside, and yet she could not forgive him his fits. She knew he could not stop them from coming, and he was paying the price for them now. But still she wished he could try to be stronger and battle the dark thoughts that consumed him at times.
    At last, Mama began to recover, but her