van Driessen insisted that she go straight to bed. “You look exhausted, Mrs. Church.” Angelica had to agree with the assessment. Shortly after, she accompanied the spry, old lady upstairs to a room under the eaves. Boxes and furniture were arranged by a couple of servants who had been summoned to the task after their dinner in the cook shed. The pegged bedstead was erected, and a cornhusk mattress was set on the slats. Woven Indian baskets took up one side of the room. The sweet smell lingering in the air suggested that these contained corn meal. “Leave the door open tonight, Mrs. Church. A little heat will come up and the cats won’t wake you by scratching at the door. Mice do come to get the corn meal and, of course, it’s best if the kitties come after them.” A shift, worn but clean, had been provided. After the ladies had gone, Angelica shucked off her clothes.
