The following Tuesday, I’m reviewing our orphans’ financial support. An individual or Sunday School class sponsors each child, and I send reports on their progress. As I write about the student we call Louisa, Sajiva enters the room and hands me a note from Mr. Steele. Sajiva waits as I open the stiff paper and read Mr. Steele’s dramatic handwriting, which covers the page. Sajiva stands with a questioning look, far too discreet to ask about the note’s contents.
“It appears Mr. Hastie has cholera.”
“Yes, Mem.” Sajiva cocks his head.
“Call for the gharry.”
It’s very bad luck for Mr. Hastie to contract the disease so soon after his arrival.
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