She let Gabriel have the crowing, for a rooster needs the exercise. She only gave him this leave because he was an infrequent storm—not usually one to fuss and argue at the top of his lungs. “Nanny, please go on to bed,” Gabriel said. “Please take your leave and let me be. I have a sour stomach and I can’t bear company this evening. I must wrestle with this, Nanny.” He said “Nanny” in his way of customary childlike respect and affection and this adornment blunted the rudeness of his command. The others had left without word or questioning gesture. They accepted that he could command them. Gabriel had ordered Mary to put the children up and go to bed. The tense atmosphere had chased Ellen from the room and Delia had followed her. Sewing Annie remained behind the others and looked at her son to take his temperature. Tonight in the workroom his eyes betrayed a deep shock and fear. They lighted nowhere, only flickered from one hand to another, one wall to another. She could not engage his eyes—pin them and probe them for an explanation.
