First wert thou found.
Thou art good for many a grief
And healest many a wound,
In the name of Sweet Jesu,
I lift thee from the ground.”
And there were saffron, witch-hazel, rue, shepherd’s-purse, and bloody-dock, not to mention the yearly store of catnip put away for her kitten.
Master Wentworth swung her up on his shoulder so she could reach the rafters.
“The yarrow be tied fifth bunch on the further beam, father,” she said; “there, ye have stopped right under it.”
Her small fingers quickly untied the string and the great bunch of yarrow was in her arms as her father set her down. He handed her a mortar bowl and pestle.
“Seat yourself, Deliverance,” he said, “and pound this into a paste for me.”