Bless, O bless Thou them, Thou God of life;
Bless, O God, my reason and my purpose,
Bless, O bless Thou them, Thou God of life.
“Bless to me the bed-companion of my love.
Bless to me the handling of my hands.
Bless, O bless Thou to me, O God, the fencing of my defense.
And bless, O bless to me the angeling of my rest;
Bless, O bless Thou to me, O God, the fencing of my defense.
And bless, O bless to me the angeling of my rest.”
With a nod of his head, he indicated that we should join him, and we did.
“Bless Thou, O God, the dwelling,
And each who rests herein this night;
Bless Thou, O God, my dear ones
In every place wherein they sleep;
In the night that is tonight,
And every single night;
In the day that is to-day,
And every single day.”
Amid murmured instructions, everyone picked up a stick of wood and brought it to the hearth, where Brianna laid it and carefully pressed handfuls of kindling under her construction.
I took my own deep breath, and, taking the twist of straw she handed me, I thrust it into the firepot from my surgery, then knelt on the new green stone and lit the fire.
WE’D EATEN A cold supper on our new front stoop, there being no table or benches for the kitchen as yet, but for the sake of ceremony, I had made molasses cookie dough early in the day and set it aside. Everyone trooped inside and unrolled their miscellaneous bedding—Jamie and I did have a bed, but everyone else would be sleeping on pallets before the new fire—and sat down to watch with keen anticipation as I dropped the cookies onto my girdle and slid the cool black iron circle into the glowing warmth of the brick-lined cubbyhole Jamie had built into the side of the huge hearth, to serve as an oven for quick baking.
“How long, how long, how long, Grannie?” Mandy was behind me, standing on tiptoes to see. I turned and lifted her up so she could see the girdle and cookies. The fire we had lighted that morning had been fed all day, and the brick surround was radiating heat—and would, all night.
“See how the dough is in balls? And you can feel how hot it is—don’t ever put your hand in the oven—but the heat will make those balls flatten out and then turn brown, and when they do, the cookies will be done. It takes about ten minutes,” I added, setting her down. “It’s a new oven, though, so I’ll have to keep checking.”
“Goody, goody, goody, goody!” She hopped up and down with delight, then threw herself into Brianna’s arms. “Mama! Read me a story ’til da cookies are done?”
Bree’s eyebrows lifted and she glanced at Roger, who smiled and shrugged.
“Why not?” he said, and went to rootle through the pile of miscellaneous belongings stacked against the kitchen wall.
“Ye brought a book for the bairns? That’s braw,” Jamie said to Bree. “Where did ye get it?”
“Do they actually make books now for children Mandy’s age?” I asked, looking down at her. Bree had said she could read a bit already, but I’d never seen anything in an eighteenth-century printshop that looked like it would be comprehensible—let alone appealing—to a three-year-old.
“Well, more or less,” Roger said, pulling Bree’s big canvas bag out of the pile. “That is, there were—are, I mean—a few books that are intended for children. Though the only titles that come to mind at the moment are Hymns for the Amusement of Children, The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes, and Descriptions of Three Hundred Animals.”
“What sorts of animals?” Jamie asked, looking interested.
“No idea,” Roger confessed. “I’ve not seen any of those books; just read the titles on a list.”
“Did you ever print any books for children, in Edinburgh?” I asked Jamie, who shook his head. “Well, what did you read when you were in school?”
“As a bairn? The Bible,” he said, as though this should be self-evident. “And the almanac. After we learnt the ABC, I mean. Later we did a bit of Latin.”
“I want my book,” Mandy said firmly. “Gimme, Daddy. Please?” she added, seeing her mother’s mouth open. Bree shut her mouth and smiled, and Roger peered into the sack, then withdrew a bright-orange book that made me blink.
“What?” said Jamie, leaning forward to peer at it. He looked at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged; he’d find out soon enough.
“Read it, Mummy!” Mandy curled into her mother’s side, thrusting the book into Bree’s hands.