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Show Page 147 "Don't hold her as if you suspect she might have a contagion," Margaret ordered. "Get a firm grip on her. She's slippery and if she squirms you might drop her." Margaret then checked the cord that still attached the babe to its mother. "It has stopped pulsing," she said. Quickly she tied two narrow strips of linen about the cord. Then she took up a sharp knife and cut between the ties. "Now wipe her with those soft cloths we warmed," Margaret told me. I carried the baby to the fire to do as Margaret bid me. And as I gently rubbed the newborn, I looked at the little face, all red and squished, and somewhere deep within me something stirred, something that had lain quiet since Aunt Mary died. As I laid the babe next Anne, I felt as though a golden flower had unfolded within me. I thought it strange that Anne did not look to the child at once, but lay as though still in agony. Then a squawk from Margaret made me turn. "A boy," she whispered, looking down at a second blood-besmirched babe squirming in her hands. "Twins!" A laugh burst forth from within me. "Oh, Anne," I cried. "You said you intended to have your share of babes in the New World. You have indeed made a hasty beginning." A short time later, when the linen had been changed, Anne washed and dressed in a fresh nightgown, the baby boy wiped |