The Lastoc of the Annumpi: Two Conversations (Part 11)

It took about a half-hour for the swirl of activity around the girls to settle. They were half-carried, half-dragged in the kitchen where their wet clothes were stripped off them, and they were wrapped in towels while water was heated. A large wash tub was filled and the two younger girls were scrubbed clean, then they were wrapped in blankets. The blankets were pulled tightly around their chests and hung loose around their legs, so it looked as if their heads were peeking out of the crater at the top of a woven volcano.  A dose of cod liver oil each, and a warm glass of milk completed their resurrection. This entire procedure was accompanied by alternating bouts of chastisement and expressions of relief from aunt and mother. Sometimes Lucinda and Rose coordinated their reactions, but often they were at cross purposes. It hardly mattered, however, because Mariel and Fiona were in a daze from the twin storms, the material one outside and the  maternal one in the kitchen.

Mrs. O’Brien sat at the long table and watched her daughters revel in their joy over having their daughters safely home. She could not help but see herself as a young mother fussing over her own wayward children not so many years ago. Mrs. O’Brien was greatly relieved to have the girls back home, but she would talk with them later. It was their mother’s time now. Besides, the men were still out there. Some of the older boys, as well. And if the rain continued, the creeks would rise and the river might flood. Perhaps that would be a good thing just now, she thought. The river separated the Valenzuela’s and O’Brien’s from Don Cupido and his friends.

Ethna refused to be scrubbed clean in the kitchen with her cousins.  She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and marched up the stairs to the bathroom on the second floor. She locked the door and began to fill the deep tub with cold water. She did not want to ask for any heated water to by brought up from the kitchen. As the bathtub filled, she stripped off her wet things and wrapped a towel around herself. She began to shiver, so she pulled a second towel around her. The running water reverberated against the iron bathtub and drowned out the sound of Ethna crying. 

It took Maria a while to calm her father. He had been working at his desk when Maria herded the three mud covered girls through his library. He explained to Maria that this was simply too much. The girls could have just as easily gone to the kitchen door, he pointed out. Why had they disturbed his library? 

Maria reminded her father that the important thing was that the girls were unharmed. They were disoriented by the storm or they no doubt would have gone directly kitchen. She told her father that they were good girls who meant no disrespect, and more such calming platitudes until the old gentleman’s feathers had been well and truly smoothed. That’s what Maria said. What Maria thought was that Ethna had brought the girls to her because Ethna knew she needed Maria’s help. 

Before she left the library, Maria asked her father about the missing book. He remembered it. It was part of his collection about the early history of the grass. He was surprised that the book was not on the shelf. He assured Maria that he had not removed the book, and that he would search for it. Maria thanked him and went to the kitchen to see how the girls were doing.

Maria could not approach the girls. Lucinda and Rose were so thrilled to have the girls safely home, they were swarming around them and Maria could not break through. She carefully stepped around the tub, but not before stooping and playfully splashing water in the girls’ faces. Maria skipped away before the girls’ could retaliate or their mothers could complain.

Mrs. O’Brien called Maria over to her. Maria sat down and said, “What was Ethna thinking?” 

“She is impetuous, like other young women I have known,” replied Mrs. O’Brien.  “She was caught up in the excitement about the hermit and she wanted to do something to make him feel welcome.”

“You make it sound like he is going to live here with us,” said Maria, ignoring the comment about impetuous young women.

“He is injured. He can not leave until he is strong. And where will he go? He cannot live alone in the grass. That is not a life for a man.”

Maria glanced over at Lucinda and Rose, who were still fussing over the girls. “This is not the time to discuss our guest. But we must have a discussion, you and I, Mrs. O’Brien.”

“I agree,” answered Mrs. O’Brien. “And you are right. This is not the time.”

Maria rose to leave, but Mrs. O’Brien gestured to her to wait. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out “The Lastoc of the Annumpi.” “It is your father’s copy,” she said. “I borrowed it yesterday.”

“Why?,” asked Maria, reaching for the book. 

“The same reason you were looking for it, I expect. There were some things I needed to discover,” Mrs. O’Brien.

Maria took the book and stood for while trying to form the questions she want to ask the older woman, but the questions would not take shape. Finally she gave up and said, “I am going to talk to our guest.”

Mrs. O’Brien nodded agreement and added, “Rose will be busy for a while with the girls.” 

“That might be for the best,” said Maria.

“I will see to it,” said Mrs. O’Brien.

Maria flashed a conspiratorial smile smile at Mrs. O’Brien and slipped out of the kitchen without Rose noticing.

*******

Before returning to the attic, Maria stopped on the landing and sat on the window seat. Behind her, the rain lashed on the leaded glass diamonds. As a child this had been her favorite place to read. Many nights she would sprawl on her stomach across the red velvet window seat reading and wake up in her bed the next morning. Her father claimed that she was a sleepwalker and that she took herself to bed. She refused to believe this, so one night she only pretended to be asleep. When her father hoisted her over his shoulder, she threw her head back and yelled, “Aha!” at the top of her lungs. Her father jumped and nearly dropped her down the stairs. The game quickly became a became a favorite nighttime ritual of Maria’s. “How strange,” thought Maria. “I haven’t thought about that game for years.” 

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Maria flipped through the book. She wished she had more time to read it, but for now there were a few points she wanted to be clear about. She sat quietly, flipping through the pages and reading short passages for about ten minutes, then she closed the book, tucked it into her pocket, and went upstairs to have a private conversation with the hermit.

Maria knocked on the door and entered when she heard Lemuel’s answering call. She was surprised that the door was unlocked, but then she remembered that Rose had left with a key with Lemuel and that the only other one was in her pocket. Maria used her key to lock the door behind her.

“Did I wake you, Lemuel?,” she asked as she took a seat by the table.

“No, the thunder woke me be a short while ago,” he replied.

“The rain has not let up,” said Maria. 

“No, no. Is Rose coming?,” Lemuel asked. Maria could see that she was making him nervous. The observation did not worry her.

“In a while, she is taking care of the girls. They were caught in the storm. They were covered in mud and soaked to the skin.”

“Where were they?” he asked.

“They were at your house, Mr. Hawkins,” said Maria.

Lemuel opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words. “They went to your house so they could bring you your things,” said Maria. She spoke in measured tone. Her voice was flat, without affect. Lemuel was growing agitated. 

“How? Why? I didn’t ask them to.” His questions spilled out as he responded to answers not yet given.

“How? Well, it seems that Ethna, Rose’s oldest girl, has been spying on you while you were spying on us. Why? I suspect Ethna has enjoyed seeing her mother happy and thought that making you happy would please Rose. No, I’m sure you didn’t ask them to, but our actions have consequences, Mr. Hawkins, whether or not we intend these consequences is irrelevant.” 

Lemuel was taken aback my Maria’s words. Without thinking he glanced quickly at the chair where Rose usually sat. It was empty. Maria noted his glance and waited for him to speak.

“You say they brought my things here?,” he asked, his voice trailing off noticeably.

“Yes,” was all Maria responded.

“But the rain. Were my books ruined?,” he said

“Your books were a little wet, but they will be alright. The foolish girls had enough the sense to take a tarpaulin.” 

“May I see them to thank them?” asked Lemuel. “My house must have been destroyed,” said Lemuel.

“It was,” said Maria. “Ethna and two her young cousins were in it when it collapsed.”

“My God! Were they injured?,” Lemuel asked. His agitation was increasing rapidly. Maria knew she had to be careful she didn’t push him too hard, but she doubted she would be a good judge of how far he could be pushed. She was too angry to carefully select her words.

“I don’t believe so,” Maria said cooly. “They are young and strong.”

Lemuel groped around for something say. “This storm goes on and on. The creek behind my home may be out its banks by now.”

Maria decided that she had waited long enough. She did not want Rose walking on them. “Mr. Hawkins. I need to talk to you about some important matters. I have waited until we alone do so. Do not look so panicked. I did not lock the door so I could seduce you. I have locked the door so Rose cannot come in until I am through. We need to talk without your guardian angel threatening me with her sword of righteousness.”

Lemuel was stunned, but he rallied in defense of Rose. “You are being unfair to Rose. She has been a good nurse to me, nothing more.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Hawkins, but you see, I know Rose. She loves. She loves her children. She loves her mother. She loved her late father. She still loves her late husband. She loves my father, and though I often irritate her, she loves me. Do not misunderstand me, I am not mocking or belittling her. Rose loves sincerely. It is her nature to love. Now she loves love you as well. That much is clear to anyone with eyes. I want you listen to to me closely now, Mr. Hawkins. Do not take advantage of her love.”

Lemuel looked shocked and then indignant. But not angry, Maria noted. “Isn’t it the father’s or brother’s place to deliver such warnings,” Lemuel asked acidly.

Maria was unfazed. “Her father is dead. Her brother is a good man, but slow. I am the one making the warning.”

There was a tense pause and both stepped back and considered the other. Maria had established the nature of their exchange. It was up to Lemuel to try and keep up with her.

“Enough of Rose,” said Maria. “That is you for two to work out. Although I should warn you that her daughter, Ethna, is a formidable young woman who will not stand meekly by and see her mother badly used.” That was she all had to say about Rose. Now Maria was ready to get at the heart of the matter. Questions had been building up in her since the confused scene that ended with her shooting Cupido. Had she been wearing gloves, this is when she would have taken them off. 

Lemuel feebly tried to defend himself by saying,”I would never use any woman badly, especially Rose.”

Maria  did not respond. Instead she tossed “The Lastoc of The Annumpi” onto the cot. “So this is your guiding light, your ethnographic study of the Annumpi?”

Lemuel reached for the book and gripped it tightly in both hands. “Yes. It is my guide to the Annumpi.”

“How many years have you live in my father’s land?,” she asked.

“Fourteen.”

Maria tried to conceal her shock that Lemuel had been among them for so many years without being discovered. “Have you located any Annumpi yet?,” she continued, hoping he hadn’t noticed her surprise.

“You know I haven’t.”

Maria’s questions always seemed one step ahead of Lemuel. It was as if she already knew the answers, and what she wanted was to force Lemuel to face the answers.

“What was that strange garment you wore on the night Cupido shot you?”

“It is called a gesconat. It is a cloak made of spoltal fur.”

"And you were given this gesconat by these Annumpi you never met?”

“Of course not. I bought it in Puerto Seguro.”

“Ah, the Annumpi have moved south to the capital. Perhaps they have acquired positions in the Viceroy’s household.”

Lemuel was stung by Maria’s sarcasm. “Why are you acting this way? Why are being so cruel?,” he demanded.

“Why can you not see what is right in front of you?,” Maria responded.

“Why are you treating me like this?,” asked Lemuel. Maria heard the slight whine in his words. She pressed on with renewed vigor.

“Treating you? This is not about you. You are no longer the lost seventeen year old avoiding life in your little English sea side town. That was sad. For a man to continue to act in that manner is pathetic. There is no place in the world for Don Quixote anymore. You barged into my life and started something that you cannot even imagine, much less understand. If you had not been in that yard attempting your insane rescue of an injured badger, this whole dangerous affair could have been avoided. 

I can handle Cupido. I have handled him since I was thirteen. But because of you, I had to shoot him. Because of you, a good family has lost their only mule, a boy has been beaten, and a house has been burned. And all that was just the opening act.”

Lemuel stared at Maria without speaking. She waited for a few moments to let her words sink in and then began questioning him again.

“Your ‘gesconat,’ as you call it. You say it is made of spoltal fur?”

Lemuel was relieved to have a direct question to answer. “Yes. Look here.” He opened the “Lastoc of the Annumpi” and pointed to an illustration of a short, slight man wearing a hooded fur cloak than reached to the ground. “It is described right here.”

“You make an excellent Scholastic, Mr. Hawkins, but perhaps it is time you joined this new century and relied on reason. In your time in my house you have rarely inquired about others. We know a great deal about you, but you know little of us. So let me tell you a little about myself.

I have devoted myself to the study of natural science - comparative anatomy, to be more exact. In the course of my studies I have developed a fair bit veterinary expertise as well. When an animal is sick or having a difficult birth I am often called. That is, I am called by the women, after the men have stood around the sick animal for while, thoughtfully scratching themselves for a while, and then forced a gallon our so of Grandfathers cure-all down the poor animal’s throat.

Mr. Hawkins, I know animals. Especially, mammals, which I have to admit are the easy ones. Your coat was made of rather shabby raccoon pelts, patched with squirrel. It also had enough fleas in it that, had they had been properly trained, the coat could have walked in its own. I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mrs. O’Brien insisted the thing be burned along with the other clothes you were wearing. I agreed.”

Lemuel would not look up from the illustration he was staring at. Maria wondered if he were trying to will himself into the woodcut. “No escape there,”she thought, as she had no intention of letting him off the hook. “Have you deduced why you never saw an Annumpi yet? No? Keep thinking.”

Lemuel did not respond. Maria was afraid that she might have pushed him too hard, but she wasn’t about to stop.

Maria pulled the bottle of poison out of pocket. “Mariel found this little bottle in your hut. Ethna was quick-witted enough to take it from the child and bring it to me. I will examine in my lab when we are through here, but you can save me some time. What is it, Mr. Hawkins?”

Lemuel ducked his chin. “It’s poison,” was all the said.

She twisted the bottle so the skull and cross bones faced him.”You don’t say. I didn’t think it was a pirate’s love philter.”

“I use when I hunt rabbits and birds.

“With your handy darts? The ones you shot Cupido with?,” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What type of poison is it, Mr. Hawkins?”

“It’s made from chokeberries. The instructions are in this book,” said Lemuel flipping through the pages trying to find the correct passage.

“No, you misunderstand me. What system of the body does this poison affect?,” Maria asked her question slowly, as if gearing down to reach Lemuel’s low level of understanding.

“Pardon me?,” was all he could think to say.

“You don’t know, do you?,” Maria asked. She was determined that Lemuel would face up to reality, if only while the door was locked and it was just the two of them in the room.

“I know it stops the rabbits from running and knocks the birds out of the sky,” Lemuel offered defensively.

“Did it ever occur to you that eating poisoned game might not be a good idea?”

“I was never sickened,” said Lemuel.

Maria was unwilling to tolerate even the mildest demonstrations of bravado. She dismissed his comments with, “This is not the first instance in your life story that supports the assertion that God looks after fools.” Lemuel flinched as if she had struck him. “You’ll have to do better than that,” thought Maria, “as I have no intention of letting up.” 

Maria returned to her questioning. “Before you poisoned Cupido with your darts had you even considered what your poison might do to a human?”

“No,” answered Lemuel, “I was intent on saving Eugusto.”

“From me, I believe,” Maria reminded Lemuel. “But you shot Cupido”

“Yes, I did. He was going to shoot me, remember? Why are so concerned about that man?,” demanded  Lemuel, his temper rising. 

Maria’s voice had risen during this last exchange, but now she pulled back. Her eyes bored into his and her voice, though softer, was insistent and commanded his silent attention. “‘That man’ as you call him is the only son of the most powerful family in the region. His family were once poor grain merchants who begged for my family’s trade. Now they own most of  my family’s land and we depend on them to keep us afloat in lean years. 

Now his people are striking back against my family and those close to us. The O’Brien’s will not accept what has been done to them. Things will get worse if I do not find a way to stop this. I did not ask that your door be locked to keep the children from bothering you. I did it to protect you from Cupido friends. Why do you think we put you here in the attic? I am hiding you, while I try to pour oil the waters you have so severely troubled.” 

Maria’s anger swept over Lemuel silencing him. Maria sprang from her chair and was pacing around the room in an effort to gather herself. Lemuel wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted to run. He didn’t care about the storm or his destroyed house. Instead he said plaintively,“I just wanted to save Eugusto.” 

Maria closed her eyes, lowered her head, and took a deep breath. She held the air in her lungs for long time then let it out in a slow stream. She raised her head and looked at Lemuel with pity and something else that he could not place. For the first time, he noticed the circles under her eyes and her paleness.

Maria swept her thick hair out of her face with her hands, and began again, determined to make Lemuel understand the situation that faces the family and him. “Remember when I said I knew animals? Listen to me carefully, Lemuel. If there were ever such things as spoltals, I could not say, but I do know, without a doubt, that there are no spoltals now.”

Lemuel cut in sharply,”You are wrong. I know Eugusto was a spoltal. I held him in my arms and I knew.”

“So you are pitting the mystical wisdom of an English whaler’s son against the judgment of a natural philosopher who has systematically studied the local fauna and who, while she makes no claims to patience, happens to be quite a bit brighter than you appear to be.” Maria knew it was time to leave. Her exhaustion and frustration were getting the better of her. She decided to just go without saying another word, but Lemuel wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t know why you speaking to me this way. I do not want to anger you, but you are wrong. You are wrong about the gesconat, and about Eugusto. You are wrong about the Annumpi. You are wrong about it all.” Lemuel sat forward  in the cot, defying her to contradict him.

“And will you go to your grave defending your muddlings also, Mr. Hawkins?” 

Lemuel turned away from her unblinking stare. Maria couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might be crying.

“It is time to go,” Maria thought. Forcing herelf to adopt a gentle voice, Maria said, “Look at the book, Lemuel. This time you must really see it for what it is. I have looked at it again to refresh my memory. I read this book as child. I want you to look at it with your eyes open. With the eyes of a man who has the opportunity to join the world. If you are brave enough to do so, you will see that “The Lastoc of the Annumpi” is not an ethnographic treatise. It is a stilted romance written in a clumsy, awkward style. It is a novel, Lemuel.”

*******

“Father, I am not a nice person.”

“Nonsense, my sweet, you are being silly.” Don Hernando handed Maria a brandy, then carried his sherry to his chair. 

“As always you are blind to my faults, Poppa. It is one of the things I love about you.” Mary stretched her legs toward the fire, and yawned. She could understand why her father so often napped in the library. She sipped the brandy and and reveled in the timeless quiet of her father’s library.

“Maria, it is so nice to sit with you. You always are running about these days," said Don Hernando. “Your dress is lovely,” he added.

A tired smile crept over Maria’s face as he looked at her father. She knew he hated her working clothes, but he would never object. He looked older than he she remembered. How long had it been since they sat and talked? 

“Father, let’s eat in the dining room tonight, just the two of us. No, even better, let’s eat in here and you can show me what you’ve found in your histories and records.”

“What an excellent idea! You close your eyes for a moment, while I go let Mrs. O’Brien know.” As Don Hernando was leaving the room, he said, ”This storm must surely end. We must be up to the thirty-eighth day by now.” The old family joke elicited a little smile from Maria before she closed her eyes and drifted off.

*****

Maria jerked awake, uncertain how long she’d been asleep or what had woken her. Ethna, she remembered, I have to talk to Ethna. Maria saw that she’d only been asleep for fifteen minutes. Her father had not returned. She debated putting of seeing Ethna, but she finally decided it would be better to get it over with. Then she could spend a quiet night with her father and slip off into her study to sleep when he dozed off.

Maria went to kitchen to she if Ethna had joined the others. Rose told Maria that Lucinda, Ethna  and the twins where in Maria’s study cleaning the mess the girls had made. Maria was surprised that she had not heard them while she was in the library, but the storm was still howling and Lucinda always tried to keep the little ones quiet when they were near the library.

Before Maria could turn around and go to her study, Ronan and  Victor, Pau’s oldest boys showed up at the kitchen door. They couldn’t stay, but Pau had sent them to tell every one that the creeks and the river were out of their banks and the bridge was out. The house and out buildings were on a small rise, so they’d be fine, but the Valenzuela’s and the O’Brien’s were cut of from town and the main road. They were also cut off from Cupido and his friends, Maria thought. Mrs. O’Brien was watching Maria and seemed to read her mind. “It’s an ill wind, indeed, eh, Miss Maria?,” she asked. 

“Indeed,” answered Maria, relief flooding her tired body. The flooding had had given everyone a few days to cool off.

Rose gave the boys some cold chicken and flasks of sweet, hot tea. Before they left, Ronan asked after Ethna. The young girls and were still there in the kitchen, but Ethna was not with them. “She’s fine,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “She’s with her mother.” 

“That’s good,” said Ronan. “We’ll spread the word that everyone’s fine.” 

“Ethna’s not out of danger yet,” muttered Maria darkly, but a thunderclap drowned out her voice.

******

Maria found Ethna in her study with Lucinda and some of the younger children. They were mopping up the mess the girls had made when they stumbled from the rain. By the looks of things a considerable portion of the storm had squeezed in with them. Muddy puddles had formed on the canvas floor sheets that lined the room. They were oiled to protect the floor from the messier procedures required by Maria’s field of interest so the moisture caused no damage.

Maria wanted this last task over with so she could rest and think. Perhaps even nap on the cot she kept tucked away in a small alcove. But first, Ethna. “Lucinda, could you please let that be for a while? I would like to speak to Ethna alone.”

“Of course, Miss,” said Lucinda. “We’ll come back later.” Lucinda led the younger children away, and could not help wondering if Rose should come and stand by her daughter. No, that would never do, she thought. Ethna would furious if she thought her mother had swept in to defend her. “Peas in pod, those two,” thought Lucinda, eyeing Ethna and Maria. “You’d think Maria was her mother, not  Rose.” Lucinda swept the children before her, leaning down and whispering to them in a carefully modulated volume that, “we must go now, I would hate to see any innocents injured.”

Ethna stood up and pressed on her lower back to loosen the tightness of her aching muscles. Maria pointed to a chair by a low bookshelf and gestured for Ethna to take a seat. 

“Thank you, Miss,” said Ethna, her prim speech a form of oral curtseying.

Maria had no stomach for playing games tonight. “Do not call me, Miss, Ethna. We been through this so many times. You are nineteen. I am twenty-eight. My name is Maria.”

“Yes, Maria.”

“And you can stop adopting that note of false humility. You have been using it since you were four any time you needed to wriggle out of an unpleasant situation. If you continue to adopt that annoying tone, I shall filet you and and your clean your bones for my studies. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Ethna, all subservience tossed away and just a hint of defiance in her voice.  Maria was pleased that Ethna was through playing games.

“Good,” said Maria, satisfied that the terms of this interchange had been understood. “Ethna, how could you have been so stupid as to take those two children into the grass to loot Mr. Hawkins’ home?” 

Ethna instantly shot back. “We didn’t loot anything. We heard that Mr. Hawkins had awakened and thought that he would be worried about his things. We thought that Mr. Hawkins would appreciate having his things with him.”

“We?,” asked Maria.

“Me. It was my idea. The girls came along to help with the cart.”

“Good. Let’s try and get things correct from the beginning. It will save time.”

Ethna nearly apologized, but she bit down on her words. Maria did not seem to notice.

“And you just happened to know where his house was? The house in which he lived unnoticed for fourteen years?”

Ethna was thrown for a second. The O’Brien’s had only known of his presence for about five years. But Ethna recovered quickly. “I had been observing him for some time. And you know I can find my way in the grass. You taught me.”

Maria scowled and thought, “That’s not all I taught you,” then she decided to move on. “So you were doing a good deed. That is your position, is it?”

“I was,” Ethna replied. “I wanted make Lemuel and mother happy.”

Maria did not rise to the bait. The last thing Maria wanted at this time was to discuss the developing relationship between Lemuel and Rose. “How nice,” Maria nonniced. “Everyone should be happy. And the opportunity to invade Mr. Hawkins’s home and thoroughly search everything he owned was a sacrifice you were willing to undertake to further the poor gentleman’s happiness?”

“No, that’s not how it was. I just wanted to help.”

“I am accustomed to trust and honesty between us, Ethna.” Maria waited but Ethna, her jaw clenched, did not reply. Maria moved on. 

“How long have you been alive?”

Ethna was thrown off balance and was angry at herself for not being ready for anything. “You know I’m nineteen, Maria.”

“Where have you lived for those nineteen years?”

“Here, Maria.”

“Who taught you about the weather patterns of this area?”

“You did, Maria.”

“Have you recently lost to eyesight?”

“No.”

“Have you recently lost your wits?”

“No.”

“Then how is it that you could not see this storm building in the east? How could you not notice those huge, black storm clouds piling up in great mountains practically over your head?”

Ethna had no answer.

“In the face of the coming storm, you took two small children into grass that is at least a foot taller than them.” It was not a question, but a charge laid against Ethna.

“I did,” was all that Etha could say.

Maria tossed her hands in the air and said, “I give up. I expect better of you, Ethna.”

Maria’s obvious disappointment in her stung Ethna. She lashed out. “You would have gone when you were my age.” 

Maria flicked the barb away. “Oh, I see. I am so old I have forgotten the thrill of nearly drowning my young cousins.”

“You know what I mean,” replied Ethna heatedly. “When you were my age you took me on expeditions in the grass to find specimens. I was no older than Fiona.”

Maria wanted this exchange to end. She’d had enough. “A nice rhetorical flourish that, but the situations are not comparable. Do you ever remember us setting out on an expedition when the sky was about to drop a second Great Flood on our foolish heads?”

Ethna decided their was no point in soldiering on. “No. Of course not. I am sorry I was so foolish.” 
Maria judged that it was possible that Ethna was sincere.

“It’s about time,” said Maria wearily. “I thought for a while there I was going to have break you arms, you stubborn girl. Now finish cleaning that mess you made, then go and see if your aunt will forgive you. And do it quietly. I am going to lie down.” Maria stood up and started toward her cot. She knew that someone would come and get her when dinner was ready. As she stepped around Ethna, she said, 
“And while I sleep, would you please do whatever you can to stop this infernal rain."