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her words. “I must go home now. My little ones will be waiting for me. If you find the dear child, tell her not to be late for supper.”
    Mrs. Solymosi stared after her.
    “She is a hard woman, that one, no matter how she pretends to be so good and kind,” she said. “Esther told me how badly she treats her. I am keeping my eyes open for anotherplace for her.” She began to weep again. “I wish Esther could give up her job with Mrs. Huri right away, but with Mr. Solymosi gone” — she crossed herself — “I can't feed four people. Esther will have to stay where she is. I'm lucky that both Sophie and Janos have good places.”
    As usual, the river was full of caravans of rafts transporting all kinds of goods — lumber, rock salt, and even fruits and vegetables.
    Mrs. Solymosi scanned the riverbank.
    “There is no sign of Esther anywhere! Where is my daughter?” she asked in a pathetic voice.
    “Let's walk along the river.” I grasped her hand. “Mrs. Huri might be right. Esther may have decided to take the day off and go for a stroll by the river.”
    I knew this was unlikely. Esther had seemed determined to return to Mrs. Huri's as quickly as possible, but I didn't want to upset Mrs. Solymosi further.
    We walked along the Tisza, the same route Esther might have taken, but we did not see her. Finally, darkness fell and we had to return to our homes.
    We said good-bye when we reached my cottage.
    “I'm sure Esther will be waiting for you at home,” I told Mrs. Solymosi.
    We both knew how afraid Esther was of the dark.

CHAPTER 3
SUNDAY, APRIL 2, 1882
    Esther kept invading my dreams that night. She was hovering above the Tisza River, her dress made of clouds and her feet clad in shiny red boots. Her face was serene and her lips were parted in a gentle smile. I called to her.
    “Esther, where are you? Your mother is looking for you. Come home!”
    “I am home.”
    She disappeared behind a cloud, and I woke up, more tired than when I had lowered my head to my pillow. Ma was snoring gently, and Clara was sucking her thumb in her sleep. Pa's bed was empty He was always up before daylight, gone to Mr. Rosenberg's fields. Pa worked even on Sundays.
    I dragged myself out of bed and washed my hands and face in the trough in the kitchen. I fed the chickens andgeese and drew water from the well for them. I collected the eggs the hens had laid and put them in a tin bowl on a shelf in the kitchen. I would sell them in town later.
    I was happy that I had milk for Clara's breakfast. It was time to wake both her and Ma.
    I carried Clara to the outhouse despite her bitter complaints. She was good-natured but never first thing in the morning. As I held her in my arms, I noticed how light she was for a three-year-old. I decided to cut another slice of bread for her breakfast, even though Pa got mad when the loaf was eaten up too quickly.
    When we returned to the house, Clara fell on her food like a hungry puppy.
    Next, it was Ma's turn. I kissed her cheek. Her face was hot against my lips. Her eyes fluttered.
    “Good morning, my daughter,” she said with her sweet smile.
    I propped her up against her pillow. Mornings were her best times. Sometimes she was even able to drink some milk.
    Clara finished her breakfast and I settled her down on the floor to play with her doll. I sat at the foot of Ma's bed, like I did every morning, for our daily talk.
    Ma glanced around the room.
    “It's so nice and clean. Has a little angel come to our home to clean it up while I was sleeping?” she teased me. “Julie, my love, I am thirsty” she said. “Please give me a little water.”
    I poured milk into a tankard and gave it to her.
    “There you go, Ma,” I said. “The milk'll make you brawny again.”
    “You mean that I should drink the milk, Julie, because it'll make me strong again,” Ma corrected me gently.
    Ma used to be a seamstress for fine ladies before she got sick and she learned how to speak properly from them. She