Page 51 - Fever 1793

child out into the streets, so you will be taken to the orphan house.” “No! I am not an orphan.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Where is your father?’
“He died years ago.”
“Your mother was ill, according to Mrs. Flagg, but you do not know her whereabouts.”
“She was sick, but I’m sure she’s better now. She’s at home, the Cook Coffeehouse. If you will just
send me there.”
“Other relatives?”
Mrs. Flagg interrupted. “Mattie is the granddaughter of Captain William, the gentleman who has been
such a help in the kitchen. I’ll fetch him now. He has been waiting for the doctor to release her.”
The clerk did not look pleased that I had a living relative. His heart was set on sending me to the orphan house, I could tell. His pen scratched along the page. He blew on it to dry the ink, then closed the book and folded his glasses. He opened his mouth once to say something, but closed it again. He looked
like a toad.
Mrs. Flagg returned with Grandfather in tow. His face was bright red and his shirt was stained, but I
thought he looked as handsome as ever.
“What’s this I hear about you being ready to go back into battle?” Grandfather asked.
The toady clerk answered for me. “Patients who have recovered enough to walk on their own must be
discharged, Sir. Provisions can be made to send this child to the orphan house, if you prefer.”
I squeaked a protest. “I am not a child!”
“She can stay in the orphan house until her mother is found. If she is found,” the clerk amended. “She
would be cared for quite well, Sir, I can assure you of that. Life will be difficult for us all until these dark times are over. The orphan house may be the safest place for her.”
Grandfather puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. “No kin of mine goes to an orphan house, not as long as I have breath in my body. Your recommendation is insulting, Sir. I served with President Washington himself. I commanded troops that sent redcoats running back across the ocean, and you suggest that I cannot care for this little snippet of a girl? I shall report your impudence to the president.”
The man pinched the top of his nose and wrinkled his brow.
“If President Washington is displeased, you may encourage him to come here and speak to me directly,” the clerk said. “We have too many lost souls wandering the city streets. I wouldn’t want to see this girl join them. But you need not listen to me. My work is done. There is a wagon going into the city tomorrow. You may ride along.”
He gave Grandfather the smallest of nods, gathered his supplies, and hopped off.
“Foolish, meddling nitwit,” grumbled Grandfather. He would have said more, but just then he broke into a fit of coughing. He pulled at his collar and gasped for air. Mrs. Flagg pushed him down to sit on my bed, and I pounded his back in alarm. When the fit passed, he sat motionless for a moment, then opened his eyes.
“Look at the two of you,” he laughed. “What? Did you expect me to expire right here? No such luck. I’ve got a girl to care for, and,” he lifted Mrs. Flagg’s hand to his lips, “a lady whom I’ve promised to take to a ball one day.”
Mrs. Flagg dissolved into giggles that reminded me of the Ogilvie sisters.