“Walda Kellar hath made a good nurse,” said Mother Werther, who was busy sorting the flax. “Anything that she undertaketh she doeth well.”
“She hath too much freedom in that sick-room,” declared Mother Schneider.
“Yea, she hath,” agreed Mother Kaufmann. “There are many hours that I cannot be there to watch her.”
“Thou forgettest that Walda Kellar needeth not watching as do other girls. She who hath been chosen to speak for the Lord surely can be trusted. And then thou knowest she is with her own father.”
Mother Werther cast an indignant glance at the wife of the Herr Doktor, who had started the conversation.
“I trust not that physician from the outside world,” said Mother Kaufmann. “He hath queer ways that are not like those of the men of Zanah.”
“He is always most kind and thoughtful; he treats women with much reverence,” said Mother Werther. “I know him best of all persons in Zanah, for doth he not stay here at the gasthaus?”
“Since when didst thou become a good judge of men?” asked Mother Kaufmann, with a taunting laugh that showed her ugly tusks. “The wife who after fifteen years hath not discovered the faults of her husband is not fitted to pass judgment on any man. I do not like that Stephen Everett.”
“He is helping Wilhelm Kellar to regain his health,” said a meek, middle-aged woman who sat in a far corner.
“It is a fortnight since Brother Kellar was taken ill, and he is still in bed,” said Mother Kaufmann.