Folly Read Online Free PDF Page A

do to be heard.
    There sat the lady with her hands over her ears and tears pouring out of her eyes while the baby lay on the bed kicking like an upturned june bug, its face scrunched and red as an old berry. The noise--Lordy!--were enough to make your head split open. The lady, Mrs. Overly, jumped up and grabbed on me, pulling me to the bed.
    "He's dying," she cried. "There is something terribly wrong!" She touched him with a dainty white finger and pulled back as his howling went up another note.
    I gathered his fierce little body into my arms, while his fists and legs did battle. I wrapped the blanket tight to hold him still and pressed my humming lips to his throbbing temple, rubbing his back in firm circles.
    I were tossed straight back to those nights with Nan, remembering how minutes would pass while I prayed for the shudder of peace. It took only a moment with this little one. He burped a burp so huge that the mother
    37
    squeaked and flung her fingers to her mouth, as if I'd forced out a demon. Then all were quiet, till he gurgled and tipped his face to look at me.
    The mother's eyes were like candles in a cellar, beams of joy, despite the puffiness. "However did you do that? What was wrong with him?"
    "It were only wind!" I said. "Do you not have a nursemaid?"
    "We had one, but now ... We only need to get to London," she said. "Mama is hiring a new one for me...." She touched her baby's face, but did not try to take him back.
    "I ... I shouldn't really tell a servant," she said. "But ... I've been ... I've been ... I was ... married !" Her voice cracked and tears came sniveling out all over again. "But I don't think I am anymore! Everything has turned ... dreadful."
    She covered her eyes with her hands, crying away. I bounced the baby, who were now quite merry. Should I pat his mother too? I waited, and waggled him, and shortly she wiped her eyes.
    "I'll be fine ," she said, as if reminding herself. "I'll take the baby now."
    When I tried to hand him over, he protested with a jerk and a sharp cry. The mother sank to the bed and wept in earnest.
    Lordy , I thought. Mrs. Forbes'll have my hide .
    "I ... I ... I've never been alone with the baby yet!" she wailed. "Nurse Polley was with us from when he was
    38
    born. She took care of things, until she left.... It was such a scene you wouldn't believe! She said terrible things about ... well, that my husband ... oh, I shouldn't be telling you this!"
    No, you most certainly shouldn't .
    "She called me ... a ninny !" She gulped. "She said that Harold was ... a lass ... lascivious cur, whatever that is, and that she wouldn't stay another minute...." She gripped the edge of the bed, stopping the shakes for a moment.
    "I ... don't know what to do," she whispered. She looked up and remembered that I was holding her son. I offered him again, and again he clung to me.
    "Oh, couldn't you just keep him?"
    "I've got work, miss. Mrs. Forbes will be wondering."
    "But I can't bear it if he cries again. I really can't. I shall run screaming from the room."
    I believed her. But it weren't my business. A hundred tasks awaited me, with not one of them being to cuddle a miserable baby whose mother didn't know which end were leaking.
    "He needs a change." My hand were now holding damp flannel.
    Her eyes puzzled up and then widened. "Oh! Oh, dear! I don't ..." She looked vaguely about the room, spying her case, and faltering at once.
    "A change?"
    I were too familiar, I know, but my arms were tired
    39
    from holding her child, cursed with a foolish mother. I laid him on the bed beside her, no matter that he puckered up and squawked.
    "Miss, if you don't mind me saying, the baby has certain needs that you'll have to attend to. A clean, dry bottom is one of them."
    "Oh, please!" She looked desperate. "Oh, please, I beg you! What is your name?" She fell to her knees and held on to my wrists as if I'd fly away, which I sorely wished I'd been capable of doing.
    "Mary."
    "Mary, dear Mary. Won't you