She gave a tired smile of real pleasure when he complimented the name, that glow of new motherhood coloring her cheeks a little. "My brother takes care o' the coal and food. I have money from the sale of the house my husband and I lived in." And then the pleasure died in her eyes. She looked at her son, the spitting image of Harold, and burst into tears. "Oh, my Harold... I wish ye could hold yer son and yer daughter." Oh, damn. She quickly wiped away the tears, sniffed a few times and took a few breaths to try and calm herself.

"I suppose help from a woman in town is warranted now. If ye would be so kind as ta find one fer me... I would be in your debt, father."