well as their dress and lacked respect when they spoke to her. The majority of them, give them their due, did pretend that they had come to purchase a cake of soap or something equally innocuous but a few asked boldly for ‘ointment to cure the pox’ or other even more indelicate items and it was she who was the embarrassed one.
She had been asked out a few times since she turned sixteen and had accepted one invitation because her father had been away on business. The young man, tall and handsome, had taken her for a walk and she had been somewhat disappointed, if the truth were told, that he said or did nothing out of place which was why she had agreed to meet him again – and again. By the end of that third evening, she had seen through him. His bland compliments, the ‘accidental’ brushing against her bosom with his large rough hands told her that he was an accomplished ladies’ man. The final straw had come on the return walk to the village. She had expected him to kiss her but he tried to go much further than that and she had to fight against him fiercely to get free. It hadn’t been funny at the time but she could laugh at it now.
Her thoughts returned to their guest for the night. Was he having a peaceful sleep – or was he in too much pain? He had not rung the little bell – or maybe she hadn’t heard it? Feeling a tightening in her chest, her stomach turned over in apprehension, sure that all was not well with him. She had to find out but she couldn’t possibly go through to him – especially not in her nightdress.
She lay for a few more minutes but the urge to go to his aid was too strong and she swung her feet out of bed and into her slippers. Then, pulling on her wrap, she stepped quietly out of her room. She had meant to go directly to the boy but decorum prevailed and she tapped on her parents’ door first.
Her father did not laugh at her fears as she had been rather afraid he might but lit the cruisie lamp at his bedside, threw on his dressing-robe and led the way along to the sitting room. Even in the dim flickering light, she could see the beads of perspiration rolling down Henry’s face and neck and she held up the small lamp willingly so that her father could examine him.
‘Abby! Abby!’ Henry moaned suddenly.
‘He is raving with the fever,’ Joseph whispered. ‘We must get his temperature down as quickly as possible. Ask your mother to bring us a bowl of cold water and a piece of flannel and you can bathe his body while I loosen the bandaging. Infection must have set in after all and, if we do not arrest it, the poison will travel all the way up his arm and straight to his heart.’
When his wife came through with the requested articles, she took one look at their patient and whispered, ‘It’s touch and go, isn’t it?’
Joseph nodded. ‘Get the fire going in the kitchen as quickly as you can, Catherine, and, while you wait for the kettle to boil, look out an old pillowcase or something that will be stronger than these flimsy bandages. Then make a bread poultice with the boiling water and try not to let it cool. We will have to keep applying poultices until …’ He pointed to the angry crimson line that stretched from the swollen cut almost to the youth’s shoulder, ‘Until we get rid of that.’
‘Abby! Where’s … Abby?’ For a few seconds, Henry thrashed about but he calmed down when Fay started tenderly sponging his face and neck and a little way down his chest, drawing back when she encountered a layer of curly hair. She felt her pulses quicken at this. She had once seen her father with his shirt and Under off and he had only had a few straggly hairs on his chest. Did this thatch mean that Henry was more of a man, more virile, than her father?
The thought was swept aside when Henry opened his eyes. He looked around him, quite alarmed at seeing the man and the girl, two strangers, hovering over him and a woman looking over the girl’s shoulder.
‘It is all
She had been asked out a few times since she turned sixteen and had accepted one invitation because her father had been away on business. The young man, tall and handsome, had taken her for a walk and she had been somewhat disappointed, if the truth were told, that he said or did nothing out of place which was why she had agreed to meet him again – and again. By the end of that third evening, she had seen through him. His bland compliments, the ‘accidental’ brushing against her bosom with his large rough hands told her that he was an accomplished ladies’ man. The final straw had come on the return walk to the village. She had expected him to kiss her but he tried to go much further than that and she had to fight against him fiercely to get free. It hadn’t been funny at the time but she could laugh at it now.
Her thoughts returned to their guest for the night. Was he having a peaceful sleep – or was he in too much pain? He had not rung the little bell – or maybe she hadn’t heard it? Feeling a tightening in her chest, her stomach turned over in apprehension, sure that all was not well with him. She had to find out but she couldn’t possibly go through to him – especially not in her nightdress.
She lay for a few more minutes but the urge to go to his aid was too strong and she swung her feet out of bed and into her slippers. Then, pulling on her wrap, she stepped quietly out of her room. She had meant to go directly to the boy but decorum prevailed and she tapped on her parents’ door first.
Her father did not laugh at her fears as she had been rather afraid he might but lit the cruisie lamp at his bedside, threw on his dressing-robe and led the way along to the sitting room. Even in the dim flickering light, she could see the beads of perspiration rolling down Henry’s face and neck and she held up the small lamp willingly so that her father could examine him.
‘Abby! Abby!’ Henry moaned suddenly.
‘He is raving with the fever,’ Joseph whispered. ‘We must get his temperature down as quickly as possible. Ask your mother to bring us a bowl of cold water and a piece of flannel and you can bathe his body while I loosen the bandaging. Infection must have set in after all and, if we do not arrest it, the poison will travel all the way up his arm and straight to his heart.’
When his wife came through with the requested articles, she took one look at their patient and whispered, ‘It’s touch and go, isn’t it?’
Joseph nodded. ‘Get the fire going in the kitchen as quickly as you can, Catherine, and, while you wait for the kettle to boil, look out an old pillowcase or something that will be stronger than these flimsy bandages. Then make a bread poultice with the boiling water and try not to let it cool. We will have to keep applying poultices until …’ He pointed to the angry crimson line that stretched from the swollen cut almost to the youth’s shoulder, ‘Until we get rid of that.’
‘Abby! Where’s … Abby?’ For a few seconds, Henry thrashed about but he calmed down when Fay started tenderly sponging his face and neck and a little way down his chest, drawing back when she encountered a layer of curly hair. She felt her pulses quicken at this. She had once seen her father with his shirt and Under off and he had only had a few straggly hairs on his chest. Did this thatch mean that Henry was more of a man, more virile, than her father?
The thought was swept aside when Henry opened his eyes. He looked around him, quite alarmed at seeing the man and the girl, two strangers, hovering over him and a woman looking over the girl’s shoulder.
‘It is all
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