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again. Orah returned to the parlor, her face impassive. She walked past Mrs. Shaw without another word and returned to the kitchen. Charlotte Changes Her Will “anna! come running!” Charlotte’s wail drifted into the hallway. Anna snatched up a towel and used it to move her skillet to the cool side of the stovetop. She hurried to Charlotte’s room and paused at the door, gasping at the stench; the basin beside the bed reeked of feces and some other smell. Something medicinal, perhaps, but Anna wasn’t sure of the source. Charlotte groaned again. “Lie still, Sister. I’ll send one of the boys for Dr. Powers.” “No, don’t call Dr. Powers! I don’t want to see him ever again! It’s all I can do to be civil to that man when I see him in church.” “Why, Charlotte! Dr. Powers has always cared for you as kindly as he has for the rest of us!” “Yes, he has, until recently. He said something I can’t forgive him for. It’s too bad, but there it is. Dr. Powers is no longer my physician, I discharged him after that. He can’t be depended on.” “But this is an emergency! Let me send for him, Charlotte!” Charlotte straightened. “No, please, have them go for that new Dr. Dean. He’s stopping at Mary Bailey’s.” She gritted her teeth and curled around the ‹sts she’d jammed against her abdomen. Anna’s footsteps tapped briskly away. “Ralph? Are you out there?” Charlotte heard her call. The wind whisked away Ralph’s reply from somewhere out in the yard. “Oh, not again,” moaned Charlotte, placing a shaky hand on the bed to steady herself to rise. Shadows from the west window had faded; Lottie had lit the lamps in the kitchen and the parlor, and was setting the table for dinner. Henry came in, splashed with mud. “Papa.” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Careful,” he warned.“I’m all mud. Had a little ruckus and got pretty wet. Why, what’s wrong?” He tilted her face back and looked down at her. “Oh, Papa, Auntie’s dying.” “Dying! Surely not.” 105 Anna, hearing his voice, stepped into the passageway. “Henry, can you step in here? Charlotte must speak to you, she says, while she’s able to.” He came to Charlotte’s doorway and stopped, his face working. “Good G—” he choked the words off, tried to erase the strangled look from his face. “Charlotte, what is it?” Charlotte straightened up, clammy sweat dripping from her face. “Henry, brother, I must speak to you. I feel I shan’t live until morning.” “Oh, Charlotte, surely not.” What in the world was the source of that smell? Could she truly be so ill? She reached a hand weakly toward him. Pityingly, Henry took the hand. It felt limp and clammy; he fought an urge to wipe it off. “I’ve spoken to Anna,” whispered Charlotte. “About my will, you know that I’ve made a change to it, a change in your favor.” Henry looked out the window, desperately wishing himself back outside on the muddy roads. He met her eyes, looked away. “Charlotte, you don’t need to change your will. It’s all right.” “Henry, I did it for you. Brainard disapproved, but I did it anyway.” Henry squirmed. “That’s all right.” He looked out the window again. The black pane re›ected his uncomfortable face and his hand holding the soggy right hand of Charlotte. He set the hand back down, patted it nervously, and backed away a step. “Charlotte, that’s all right.” He turned and ›ed. Charlotte doubled over again. Long past midnight, Anna came to bed, her face pale with weariness . Henry rolled over, came awake. “How is she?” he whispered. “I think she’ll be all right in a day or two. Dr. Dean tells me her condition is more painful than dangerous. It was just one of her ‘episodes,’ but somewhat worse than usual.” “dr powers, I’m afraid I’ve come here under false pretenses. I’m not really ill at all.” He laughed dryly. “I suppose you mean that it’s not something you can bring yourself to tell me.” “No, not at all! Its that I , I . . . oh, it’s about my sister.” “Anna, you know I can’t discuss Miss Spencer’s case with anyone unless she...

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