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about the situation. Mrs. Gray rejected Mattie’s timid offer to care for both Master Jack and Miss Elizabeth with a curt reply. “That girl is learning that she cannot always have things her way. There is no need to give in to her now.”

     
    Doctor Jameson returned to Fair Oaks for a second time in a week. In addition to examining the newborn baby and the birthing mother, he looked in on Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. Ann and Mrs. Gray hovered nearby as he examined the listless child. Wracked by a high fever for three consecutive days, the toddler lay motionless in bed. He listened carefully to her shallow breathing, noted that her eyes were sunk into her head, and pulled at the skin on the back of her hand. The skin stayed pinched up in a fold for a few seconds before laying flat again. “Dehydration has set in,” Doctor Jameson informed Mrs. Ann and Mrs. Gray. “She must take in liquids or she shall not survive this fever. It is the only treatment.”
    Pausing at the door, he emphasized the urgency of the situation. “This is extremely serious. You must do whatever you can to hydrate this child or she will die. I am sorry to be so blunt. But the situation is dire. I can show myself out.”
    Stunned at this news, Mrs. Ann stared blankly where the doctor had been standing. Then she spoke, “Charlotte, as quickly as you can, get a concoction of salt, sugar, and water from Cook. Do not hesitate to explain the urgency of this situation. She must stop whatever she is doing to get you what I need.”
    Mrs. Ann waited silently by the bed for Charlotte’s return. Mrs. Gray hovered behind. Charlotte delivered the liquid and retreated to a chair in the corner. With a shaking hand, Mrs. Ann brought the spoon to her daughter’s parched lips.
    “Open her mouth,” Mrs. Ann commanded to Mrs. Gray.
    “Perhaps sitting her up would be more effective?” suggested the housekeeper.
    “Oh, yes, of course,” replied Mrs. Ann, confusion in her eyes. Riddled with childbirth hormones, tired from labor, and anxious about her daughter, it was hard for the young mother to think well. Her arm retreated back to the bowl, spilling liquid along the way.
    Mrs. Gray grabbed the child under her armpits, pulled her into an upright position, and rested Miss Elizabeth against the bed pillows. She stepped back. The girl slowly slid sideways in an arc until her head met the bed. Mrs. Ann stared at the girl.
    “Perhaps my lap,” she said. “Place her on my lap.”
    Mrs. Gray hauled up the child and roughly set her on Mrs. Ann’s thin legs. Mrs. Ann struggled to balance Miss Elizabeth on her lap. She juggled the floppy body of the dozing child like a sack of potatoes. The young mother resumed her attempt to follow the doctor’s order. With one arm she cradled her daughter behind the neck while the other arm traveled back and forth to and from the vessel of liquid. Drops of fluid spilled off the shaking spoon onto the girl’s gown, neck, and chin. By the time it arrived at Miss Elizabeth’s lips, it was nearly empty. Mrs. Ann, determined to save her daughter, kept the spoon moving back and forth, stopping occasionally to wipe away the liquid dribbling down her child’s skin.
    “Is she swallowing? I cannot tell!” inquired the mother.
    “Hmmph,” Mrs. Wainwright broke in from the doorway where she watched Mrs. Ann’s feeble attempts to hydrate Elizabeth. “I cannot see what good you are possibly doing. Either the fever will break or it will not,” declared the elderly woman. “It is in God’s hands. You must pray for your daughter.”
    Mrs. Ann’s hand froze at her mother-in-law’s words. Like a scared bird uncertain in which direction to fly, she clenched the spoon tightly. Closing her eyes and retreating into herself she took a deep breath before silently resuming her task. Grandmother Wainwright muttered about a “fool’s attempt” as she left the scene.
    Though the cup was only half empty, Elizabeth started snoring and her mother could