One of her own. Anne wished it was true. Not that she didn't want to be part of her own family. But she couldn't help a sense of yearning and incompleteness when she thought of what it would be like to be a Blacke. To have a mum, who listened to her and understood her, whom she wasn't afraid of. To live in a nice house too and probably do nicer jobs than mucking and baiting lines... To have a nicer bed. To not have to look after her brothers and do all the house chores alone. God, she wouldn't have to do all the laundry alone. And to come home every day and be able to share her joys and sorrows of the day with Mrs. Blacke... Oh, how lonely her own life felt when she thought of it and it made her cry all over!

When she had finally regained herself, she pulled back slowly and wiped her face with her sleeve. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said as she put it away. "I am so happy to see ye, Mrs. Blacke. "How have ye been?"