Annabet settled on a stool by the window and pulled out her latest crochet project.

"What are you doing?"

"You've seen me crochet."

Bertha tapped her toe. "Why are you doing it here?"

"I promised Johann I would watch his shop." She looked up and saw her friend's expression. "No, I am not getting soft headed. If the city council's thugs come with hammers and pry bars, I won't get in their way. I'll just offer to sell their wives and sweethearts my lace." She tipped her basket to show off the tidy bundles of crocheted edgings.

Bertha regarded Annabet for several minutes then dragged a bench into the light and pulled out her spinning. "I didn't know foolishness was contagious."

Three days later, Annabet looked up to see a very large man with a crowbar and ink-stained hands blocking the door. Two men with cudgels stood behind him.

"Is the printer here?"

Annabet realized that talking bravado was different from facing down thugs. She lowered her work to her lap wishing Bertha, anyone, was with her. "No."

The crowbar-wielding man looked at the sheet-covered press before examining her. "Where is he?"

"Halfway to Grantville."

"When is he coming back?"

"I don't know," Annabet said.

The city council's enforcers muttered back and forth between themselves, then left. The remaining man stepped in and closed the door. "When did he leave?"

Annabet looked him in the eye and lied. "Two weeks ago."

The man frowned at her. The door swung open and hit the stranger in the back. He spun to face his attacker.

"Annabet! Annabet, you must help me." Wilhelmina dodged around the man. "How do I fix this?" She thrust a knitted object at Annabet. "It's all matted." The maid that followed her looked frightened. She skittered her way past him.

Annabet glanced at the scarf. "You scrubbed it in hot water, didn't you?"

"My little sister smeared jam on the end. How else…" Wilhelmina broke off and bit her lip.