Anji stood on her front stoop and watched Thorliff hustle off on his way to the next house. And to think there was a time, when they were both young and foolish, when she might have married him.She read the paper he had just handed her. Her heart jumped, and not from thoughts of love. Diphtheria! Yes, she certainly would keep the children at home. She vaguely remembered from somewhere that there was a cure for diphtheria—or at least a prevention measure of some sort—but she couldn’t remember any more than that. She turned and went back inside.“Ma,” Melissa called from the kitchen, “we’re almost out of flour.”“Ma, I’m going over to Benny’s for a couple hours, all right?” Cap in hand, Gilbert was heading for the door.“No!”Gilbert stopped cold and stared. “But, Ma! You always let me go over to Benny’s!”“Read this and come to the parlor.” Anji stuffed the paper into his hand and marched on to the kitchen. “Melissa, bring the children to the parlor.”Melissa frowned, dropped the spoon she was holding, and hurried off toward the stairs.Anji sat down in her favorite rocker by the parlor fireplace and tried to compose herself.
