Letitia: A Heart Inspired to Heal

By Dianne J. Ferris

Letitia: A Heart Inspired to Heal is the fascinating story of a pioneer woman who is moved to study nursing after witnessing common medical tragedies of early twentieth-century Canada.

Letitia's curious mind and brave spirit along with her desire to heal all living creatures captures the attention of Dr. Abraham Groves, Ontario's famous Country Doctor.

As Dr. Groves innovates his approach toward medicine, changing the practice of medical surgery, Letitia follows his teaching along a path of healing both inspirational and charming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CalliCrow Press
• Release date: Nov 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9780986735660

Book preview

DEDICATION

TO MY VERY DEAR GRANDMOTHER, Letitia Bryce Collingridge, who told me the truth of her hidden family tree, many moons ago.

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To my Uncle Charlie, the family historian in his time, for supporting the truth’s history and for the photographs he took, that live on to this day...many in this book.

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To my husband, Charles Doekes, for being my sounding board throughout the writing of my book, and chef of great meals to keep me writing.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

TO MY DAUGHTER, CHERYL R. Cowtan, who has encouraged my long trip into the past and who with her creative talent designed the book.

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To my sons, Lee and Steven Cowtan, along with my eight grandchildren, who have also been an inspiration of encouragement even in showing their DNA to me, inherited from whom else but Letitia Bryce and John Collingridge’s line.

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To my Canadian cousins, Nancy Collingridge Hawkins, who spent many years with me researching and sharing the genealogy of my grandmother, Letitia Bryce Collingridge.

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To Mary Switzer Eccles, daughter of Mary Bryce, my grandmother Letitia’s sister, for relating some true stories of Dr. Groves’s surgical experiences.

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To my American cousins, Fran Bryce Turner and sister June Bryce Anderson, daughters of Adam Bryce, brother of my grandmother, Letitia, for their information and photos they shared with me.

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To Todd Holes, a member of the James Bryce American family, who shared with me his research on descendants of James Hopkinson Bryce.

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To J. Anderson for the photos he sent to me in 2012-14.

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To Susan Dunlop, past curator of the Wellington County Museum and author of Reminiscences of Early Nursing, who researched and shared the history of nurses in Dr. Groves’s day.

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To the members of Bruce County Genealogical Society for their most informative genealogy course, offered at the Bruce County Museum & Cultural Centre, which I had the opportunity to attend.

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To Wellington County Museum and Archives, Fergus, Ontario, which offers wonderful displays and an amazing collection of files of Dr. Abraham Groves’s sixty years of medical history in Fergus and the surrounding areas.

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To Ian Lancashire from the University of Toronto Archives on Copyright Laws in Publication for poetry used in this book.

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To Margaret Ann Noodin for permitting use of native information from her website Ojibwe.net.

To Charles Doekes for photo restoration and additional design and editing work.

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A special thanks to my most knowledgeable editor, Jane Karchmar, who has been with me since 2007, editing my works of fiction and historical fiction publications.

The Birth

Ruth heard the whinny of a horse as she finished putting the breakfast dishes into her cupboard. Rushing to the window, she peered through an opening above the leafy design Jack Frost had placed on her window in the night. There was just enough light in the sky to catch the movement of her neighbour Letitia Bryce’s chestnut mare and their red cutter. Concern about Tisha’s condition in the last month of pregnancy crossed her mind as she grabbed the handle of the door to open it; the knock still made her jump. On the porch stood Alma, Tisha’s eldest daughter, face flushed, wringing her hands.

Please come, Aunt Ruth. My mother’s in labour and my father’s not at home.

Ruth gently hugged Alma, happy to see her, but also hoping to calm her. Come in, Alma, while I gather some things we may need.

Alma stomped the snow off her boots while Ruth rushed to her linen closet to pack a bag of clean cloths and towels. Is your father bringing the doctor back with him, Alma?

No—Mother wasn’t in labour when he left yesterday.

Trying hard not to show her displeasure at this news, Ruth slipped on her heavy coat and boots and, grabbing up her bundle of supplies, she turned toward Alma, We’d best hurry, then.

When they reached the cutter, Ruth handed her bundle to Alma. I’ll go tell my boys where I’m going. You’ll want to turn the cutter around to save time. I’ll be right back.

Ruth entered the barn to find her two adult sons raking the cow stalls. Her eldest, Richard, saw her as she approached him. What’s wrong, Ma?

Letitia is in labour, and James went to town without knowing. I’m going over to help her and I don’t know how long it will take. Perhaps if I’m not back by dusk, and your father returns earlier, you can send him over to see how we are faring.

Do you think one of us should go for the doctor? asked her other son, Thomas.

"From what Alma said, it is likely already too late for anyone to first off find the doctor, and for him to make it here before the birth."

All right, Mother, we’ll tell Father. I’m sure she’ll be fine, now you’re going to help her.

ALMA DROVE THE CUTTER up to the barn door where John, her eldest brother, came out to meet them. Reaching for the horse’s reins, he greeted them smiling, happy to know his mother would be in good hands now. ’Mornin’, Aunt Ruth.

Stepping down out of the cutter, Ruth touched his shoulder in greeting, ’Morning, John. Please take good care of Jake for me and rub him down well.

For sure I will, and feed him, too.

Ruth and Alma ran toward the house together. Entering the house, Ruth quickly stripped off her winter wrappings and, almost breathless, made her way to Tisha’s bedroom. Alma was already waiting by her mother’s side when Ruth walked through the bedroom door.

Tish, I’m here. You’re going to be fine now.

Ruth knelt down to kiss her cousin’s cheek, and Tisha’s lips turned into a shaky smile as she panted in pain. Examining Tisha, Ruth assured her, It won’t be long now, dear.

It took a good hour for the baby to be born, for it was a big baby, with wide shoulders. Ruth held the baby up high to announce a beautiful baby girl. She didn’t need to pat her bum, for she had a strong cry, announcing her own birth.

Tish, she laughed, you have a singer, here, with good, strong lungs!

Tears of relief slid down Tisha’s face and Ruth wiped them away with the edge of her apron. Ruth took the baby over to the small table where Alma stood smiling while holding the kettle she’d used to fill the washbowl with warm water. Ruth added cold water from the pail on the floor, testing the water before rinsing the baby’s body with the warm water and a clean cloth. The baby’s skin was already turning from the pale colour of birth to a pink glow, as she gently rubbed her. Alma returned from the kitchen with another clean towel to dry her. Holding a warm blanket over her arm, she shook it open and laid it on the table. Ruth placed the baby on the blanket and Alma quickly swaddled her. Ruth noticed how experienced this young girl was, with everything she did. They returned to Tisha’s bedside, and Alma laid the baby on the bed within her mother’s arm. Ruth said to Tisha, Isn’t she lovely? Have you chosen a name for her?

Tisha turned her head to look at her baby and then smiled weakly at her eldest daughter. Alma kissed her mother’s cheek. She’s beautiful, Mommy.

Ruth leaned closer to Tisha, for she was weak and her voice came only as a whisper, Le...Letitia, after my...family name.

Lovely choice, Ruth laughed and bent down to kiss Tisha’s other cheek. Congratulations, dear.

Now that Tisha was resting with the babe in her arms, Ruth decided to take the time to check on the other children. As she walked into the kitchen, she realized that was unnecessary, for all was in order and she shook her head in wonderment as she glanced around the room at Tisha’s family. She was thankful the other children were independent workers, for they had made her workload lighter. She knew that John, a few years younger than Alma, would have kept the wood stove stoked against the winter’s cold and he would have been the one to bring in the water supply as well. Ruth smiled at the younger ones whom years ago she’d helped Tisha deliver, Good morning, dear ones.

Mary Elizabeth, age eight, and Adam, three, were sitting eating at the kitchen table; both looked up long enough to smile at her but quickly turned back to their porridge that Alma had made them. Alma reached across the table to wipe the porridge off Adam’s wee chin. The whole family knew how important their older sister was to them. To Ruth, in many ways, Alma was much more mature than her age of twelve. She was a hard worker who tirelessly helped her mother night and day, caring for her siblings. Ruth doubted that she ever had time to do her schoolwork.

Ruth, carrying some warm water, returned to Tisha’s bedroom. Changing the bottom sheet of the bed, Ruth carefully washed Tisha and brushed her hair back from her face. She was thanked by the weak smile Tisha gave her. Ruth stood up to straighten her back and looked out the window at a line of pine trees along the laneway. A pink glow seemed to creep along the snow as she watched. It climbed higher up the tree, reaching to cover the whiter snow along the branches. She wished the warmth of the colour would warm her, too, for she felt cold all over worrying about Tisha’s condition. She wondered when James would return to his family and she was aghast that he had not considered Tisha’s condition the day before, when he had gone into town. It would have been much better if he had let her know he was leaving Tisha alone.

Tisha moaned then, drawing her legs up and Ruth lifted the sheet to see if the afterbirth was coming with a contraction. Blood squirted out onto the bed and Ruth hid her fearful expression from Tisha while she reached for another clean rag, hoping to stop the blood flow. She saw the baby’s head then, Oh my God, Tish, another baby! Alma, please hold little Letitia a bit, to keep her warm.

I’ll take her into the kitchen by the stove, Auntie Ruth.

Born quickly, the baby’s newborn cry brought Alma back from the kitchen. Ruth saw Alma’s expression and realized she was shocked at the amount of blood her mother was losing. Alma put the baby into the bassinet by the small wood stove in the bedroom and returned to her mother’s side to help. Ruth touched her arm to get her attention away from the blood and shook her head at Alma in warning. Alma knew then not to say anything to her mother about the loss of her life’s blood. Ruth knew Alma had seen her mother deliver before...but had never witnessed so much blood.

Ruth’s heart raced, and she knew then that Tisha might not survive. She tried to stem the bleeding, packing her with a clean sheet, but it didn’t help. She whispered into Alma’s ear and Alma rushed back into the kitchen, returning with a large bowl of flour. Alma held the sheet back, while Ruth packed the flour into Tisha’s vagina. She remembered watching their veterinarian stem the bleeding with flour, after the gelding of her horse had resulted in a hemorrhage. Slowing the blood loss had saved the horse’s life, but Ruth wondered what else she could do for Tisha other than hoping Tisha’s womb would tighten up when the baby suckled; and she prayed this final try might stem the flow of blood.

Alma washed and swaddled the second baby girl and placed her on the other side of the bed beside her mother.

Alma, Ruth said, let’s see if we can get Letitia to suckle now. Tisha was too weak to help with the baby feeding, but between Alma and Ruth, they did manage to get both babies to suckle for a few mouthfuls. Ruth knew that would help the babies and hopefully save Tisha.

Alma heard a cry and laid the second baby girl down inside the curve of her mother’s arm. She rushed back into the kitchen to see why little Adam was fussing so. Ruth took this time to step back and see her best friend, beautiful Tisha, her eyes closed and long, dark hair lying along one side of her shoulder, her arms wrapped protectively around her twin girls. Ruth didn’t know it then, but this scene she would never forget for the rest of her life.

Tisha moaned softly, and Ruth stepped closer to her, feeling frustrated in not knowing what else to do. She knew it was too late to get a doctor now, since the nearest doctor was a good fifteen miles away. Ruth lifted the blanket covering Tisha’s lower body and was glad to see that the afterbirth had come away easily. She gathered it and the blood-soaked packings, dropping them into a pail. She washed Tisha again and replaced the packing with clean rags, but the blood continued to seep out of her beloved friend. She sat down on the chair beside Tisha and took her hand, feeling her wrist for her pulse. Tisha’s breathing had slowed considerably and, as Ruth watched her, she opened her eyes and looked up, trying to speak. Ruth leaned closer, straining to hear her weak whisper. Ruth felt Tisha’s dry lips move against her cheek, A woman...in village...to feed babies.

Ruth squeezed Tisha’s hand in both of hers and looked deep into Tisha’s eyes. Tish, you can do this. I’ll help look after them, and your girls can help, too.

Tears ran down Tisha’s cheeks. She looked up at the ceiling, closed her eyes, and never opened them again. It was January 5, 1892, the day Letitia and Ellen’s mother died when they were born.

On that day, Ruth sent her eldest son out on an emergency call for a woman in the nearby area who might be able to breastfeed newborn twins to save their lives. Her heart was low, for she was concerned they may not be able to find such a woman.

WHEN JAMES, THEIR FATHER, returned a day later, his wife, Tisha, was not there smiling to welcome him home, but instead was wrapped in blankets for burial. The newborn girls were swaddled beside each other on a makeshift cot close to the wood stove in the big living room. Alma, his eldest daughter, then twelve years old, stood beside the bed holding the hand of Matilda Jane, five. Wee Mary Elizabeth, eight, and William Adam, three, the youngest son, were flanking a Native woman who was holding their hands with her head bowed. John William, ten, the eldest son, stood facing his father with tears coursing down his cheeks.

Well, snapped James, a fine welcoming committee, turned into a funeral. I go away for a few days and come home to this? Gather some belongings, Alma, you and I are leaving.

Alma’s face turned red. Father, where are we going?

Anywhere but here, I grant you. Hurry it up.

Alma rushed to bundle her clothes together while her brothers and sisters surrounded her, tugging on her skirt, the smaller ones crying harder.

When Alma returned with her clothes bundled together, John William stood between Alma and her father. You cannot take her away, father, we need her here.

I care not what you need. I need her with me. Get outside and ready our horses. I will be out shortly to saddle them. James gathered some food from the storage bin under the floor and turned to the Native woman who had squatted down to comfort Mary and Adam, who were sobbing in fear of this strict father of theirs. James stepped toward the Native woman and she stood up, stepping in front of the children to protect them.

Ahhh, worry not, woman; these children have suffered enough. You can look after them from now on.

He turned, grabbed Alma’s hand, and marched out the door, not looking back once.

AFTER GOING HOME A few hours earlier, not knowing when James would arrive, Ruth returned with her eldest son, Richard. When Ruth entered into what had been Letitia and James’s home, Wenonah, the Native woman, was sitting with all of the children surrounding her. Ruth was aghast when Wenonah told her what had taken place. She could not believe James would take these children’s eldest sister away from them and desert his own children. She knew she must notify the minister of their church to make arrangements for Letitia and then make a decision about the other children. She told Wenonah she would be taking the twin girls to her home and asked her to please come to look after them.

The Green Cutter

Abe, in the upper part of the barn, forked another pile of hay down the chute to the barn’s hay crib, where his brother Lorne was spreading it out to the cattle. He was contemplating whether or not he should go to a barn dance being held in town that Saturday evening when he heard a horse whinny. Peering through the barn door, he spotted a horse pulling a green cutter turn into their laneway. He stepped back to the top of the chute, "Hey, Lorne, you recognize that driver in the lane?

A moment passed, No, I don’t. I’ll go find Dad.

Dropping his hay fork, Abe said, I’ll go see what he wants.

When Robert strode up to the cutter followed by Lorne, Abe was holding the bridle of the bay horse in one hand and two envelopes in the other. Robert recognized the driver as Jacques Dallaire, a distant neighbour he’d met at the harvest dance he and Elizabeth had attended in Arthur. Robert offered his hand to him. Well, now. Good to see you again, Jacques. They shook hands.

Bonjour, Robaire. These are two of your beeg familee?

Yes, laughed Robert. This is Abe and Lorne. He turned to face his sons, Do you boys remember Jacques at the harvest barn dance? He played a fine fiddle for us.

His boys nodded and smiled and each reached out to shake Jacques’ hand.

What brings you this way, Jacques? asked Robert.

"Ahh, the Reeve of Fergus, Doctor Groves, he send these two letters that your son has there, to be delivered to your wife, Elizabeth, tout de suite."

Oh, I see, yes...mighty kind of you to set out in this weather.

Ahh well, when I start out, the weather she look fine, but like a woman’s mind, change mighty fast.

Ha ha, yes. ’Tis been a most changeable month. I thank you for your trouble, Jacques. Would you like to come in and get warmed up?

"Oui, but non, I have business in Fergus and I must try to beat what’s in those beeg grey clouds above."

I hope you’re not trying to get home tonight?

"Non, non. I do not want to keel my horse. We will stay in town and leave after the meeting."

Such a good-looking animal, and a very wise choice, Jacques! Robert shook hands with him again.

I hope thees news is not too much of trouble for your missus, Robaire?

Robert looked at the envelopes, and one was trimmed in black. He knew what that meant, a death. He wondered whose. He looked back at Jacques.

Jacques nodded, touching the edge of his hat, "Bonsoir, mon ami. Hup, Julee." Jacques said, flicking his reins. His bay horse lunged forward into the snow, its muscles rippling as the cutter followed. They turned around by the barn, heading out the lane. Robert and Lorne stood there watching while the green cutter turned once more onto the county road.

What a fine-looking horse, said Abe.

Robert turned to Abe, taking the envelopes from his hand. I think you and Lorne should finish your chores and I’ll take these to your mother. She may need a bit of time to herself with this news.

Letter Edged in Black

Busy kneading bread , Elizabeth turned to see her husband take his boots off at the door. He kept his eyes away from Elizabeth’s gaze, afraid he might give away the concern in his heart caused by the black-edged letter. He walked toward her holding out two envelopes.

Where did you get those?

Jacques Dallaire just delivered them by horse and cutter.

Elizabeth walked toward the front door to peer out the window at the roadway. Jacques did? Was Madelaine with him?

No, no. He had business in Fergus.

Elizabeth looked down at the envelopes in his hand and saw the one edged in black. Ohhhh... she said as her heart seemed to pause. She reached for the letters and offered a weak smile.

There’s some hot tea in the pot, Robert, if you’ve a mind to take a break.

Turning away from her, he walked to the door to hang his heavy coat upon the hooks and returned to the table. He sat down and busied himself pouring a cup of tea. As he stirred some honey into his tea, he hoped the news wasn’t too bad for his wife. He looked up when she sniffed and saw her reach out for the support of a chair, tears brimming in her eyes. She seemed unsteady on her feet and he jumped up to support her.

Ohhhh...Robert, it’s Tisha...my sister. Dear God, she has died in childbirth!

Robert enfolded her in his arms and she cried against his shoulder, deep sobs shaking her very being. He stroked her hair, blinking back his own tears. When her sobs subsided, he pulled out a chair and asked her to sit down. He pushed his tea over to her, but she shook her head.

Oh, how could it be? she asked, looking at him through teary eyes. She was so young—only thirty-eight—and I was going to see her this spring.

Is the baby all right? he asked.

She mopped her face with her apron and looked at him with reddened eyes. Yes. Thank God for His mercy, A little smile appeared on the corners of her lips, much like sunshine after a rainstorm. Both are.

Both?

Twin girls, Robert. Oh...I must take them...my sister’s girls.

What about James? Do you think he’ll give them up?

That no-good man. He was off to the city, leaving her alone near her time. That’s what happened.

Why would he do such a stupid thing?

His sister had died the day before. He took her body into town to the churchyard to be buried.

Perhaps he was overwrought.

He was born overwrought, if you ask me.

Now, Liz, perhaps the shock was too great. He stared at her for a moment then shook his head. Did Tisha die alone?

No. Alma rode to your cousin’s farm to fetch Ruth. The letter’s from Ruth. She said she will tell me more when we see her. She did as Tisha asked and got a young native woman who was nursing her own child to take the girls and feed them.

You mean the girls are not at their home?

No one is. James left.

"WHAT? He left them all? Robert slammed his fist onto the table. What kind of a man is he?"

Exactly, but he took Alma, the fool.

Where did he take her?

He packed up and told Ruth he was moving on. She asked him where and he didn’t seem to know for sure, but just said, ‘To the United States.’

What about the rest of the children?

I expect Ruth has them for now. How dear she is. We’ll have to make arrangements, Robert, as soon as we can.

They sat there together quietly, she wiping her tears that continued to flow, and he looking at his rough farm hands clutched together on the table in front of him.

After a while, he cleared his throat. Elizabeth?

She looked up at him, her eyes and nose still red from crying, Yes? she answered.

What does the other letter say?

Ohh...I must have dropped it.

He spotted it under the chair and bent to pick it up, handing it to her.

She picked up a table knife and slit the envelope open, taking a moment to read it. He watched her, afraid of the contents, his heart racing. After a moment, she smiled and handed him the letter.

He read...

St. Andrew Street

Fergus, Ontario, Canada

January 12, 1892

Dear Elizabeth Jackson:

I have recently been given news of the loss of your sister Letitia Bryce, during the birth of her twin daughters.

Please accept my condolences.

I have also been told the babies are being breastfed by a native woman from the Native village near Luther Lake. A dear friend has advised me that being next of kin, you may consider taking these girls to raise, and I would like to offer you some advice.

My education through the years has taught me that breastfeeding orphaned newborns, for best results, lies in goat’s milk and not cow’s milk supplementation. I hope you will consider this as an opportunity to give these young babies the step-up they will need to survive and purchase a good nanny goat, if you haven’t one already.

Please feel free to contact me for any medical advice you may need, in the raising of these girls.

Abraham Groves, M.D.

Elizabeth stood up and ran her hands over the sides of her hair and then down the sides of her apron. Well, she said, her lips still trembling, I must make supper. Matilda should be home soon with the boys, and I must plan how to break the news of the babies to our own children.

I guess that means we’re getting a nanny goat.

She smiled at him, It surely does, Robert—and two baby girls.

The Twins

W haaat? asked Abe , rather loudly, Twins?

Elizabeth looked around the kitchen table at her five children, ranging down in age from twenty to six.

Beautiful Matilda, her firstborn, was smiling, her hands still held in prayer from their saying Grace a moment before.

Their eldest son Abraham’s mouth was open, awaiting a fork full of meat held halfway there. He set the fork back down on his plate, giving his mother his full attention. At eighteen, he was a sensible young man. Lorne, their eleven-year-old, sat there, eyes wide, staring at her. Robert Jr., nine, gave Lorne a nudge and crossed his eyes in jest. Jonathan, six years old—whom they always called by his middle name, Les—broke out in laughter.

Ahem! rumbled their father, and they all realized this was not a joke.

"Are we really going to have babies here, Mom?" asked Robbie.

Yes, babies! Your Aunt Letitia, God rest her soul, has gone to Heaven, and there is no one to take care of the children. So, of course, we’re going to.

But why, Momma, why did she have to leave? asked Les.

Sometimes things happen where there is no choice. I know she would rather have stayed here with her family, but she was too ill to do so.

Mother, what about Uncle James—doesn’t he want the children? asked Abe.

Yes, Mother, what about Uncle James? asked Matilda.

He has left the country and taken Alma with him and I do not wish to hear his name in this house again. The fool!

Umm... Lorne started to say until Abe kicked his foot under the table and gave him a stern look to keep his mouth shut.

And will our other cousins be coming to stay too, Mother? asked Matilda.

Yes, what about John, Adam, Mary, and Matilda? asked Lorne.

No, children, I’m sorry we cannot take them all. We have other relatives who will be willing to give them a good home. As it is, we will have our work cut out for us with just two babies.

Matilda started to sniff and soon had her handkerchief out of her apron, wiping her eyes. Abe reached over to touch her shoulder in comfort, while the younger boys sat looking very sad.

There’s no need to mourn, said their father. You will see them later in the year—except I can’t say when we will see Alma again.

Let us bow our heads and say a prayer for my dear sister—your Aunt Tisha—and of course for Alma and your other cousins; and then tomorrow, we will ready ourselves for the day when we will meet our new family, your twin cousins, Letitia and Ellen Bryce.

Good News Mail

The door flew open , and, along with the snowflakes, the wind blew Les into the kitchen’s warmth.

Mom, Dad said I should bring this right to you. A letter from Aunt Ruth.

Ohhh... smiled Elizabeth, walking toward him. I have been waiting for that. Tell your dad, when you go back to the barn, that lunch will be ready very soon.

When they had all sat down together at their round oak table, Elizabeth unfolded the letter to reread it to her family.

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Hello, Dear Elizabeth and family:

Through God’s grace, we have managed to arrange for the native woman, Wenonah, who has been breastfeeding the babies, to come and live here with us.

Her husband comes daily to help the boys with chores. A boon for me, too, since George is away so much working. It is also a pleasant arrangement for us all, certainly for wee Letitia and Ellen. You will be pleased to know, they are very healthy and happy babes.

I look forward to seeing you all when it is possible to travel these snow-laden roads, but I will be sad to give up these sweet girls.

Oh, and there have been arrangements made by relatives and neighbours to take Letitia and James’s other children. I will notify you of the final arrangements, when I hear, of course."

Much love to you all,

Ruth xxxxxxx

P.S. Here’s a very good recipe you might want to try sometime.

Elizabeth closed the letter and put it back in the envelope. The rest is just some country news, of no interest to any of you, except of course to you, Matilda. There’s a good chocolate cake recipe Ruth sent that we must try, perhaps for a special occasion.

Yes, Tillie, added Les, peering over his mother’s shoulder, maybe we can make something up for a special occasion.

Robert reached out and ruffled Les’s hair, I’m sure we can think of a good reason—chocolate cake has my vote.

AS IT WORKED OUT, THE weather did not give much of a break that year until late March, when winter went out like a lamb, having come in like a lion. Being in contact with Ruth, they made their plans to travel for the babies in the spring, immediately after the crops were planted.

1894

Spring’s Shooting Star

Elizabeth turned in her bed to face her husband. His eyes were closed, for it was still