"We're not open til one," sang out as I gingerly stepped up to her desk."Can I wait Ma'am," I asked, "Just fell and twisted my ankle, fraid I may have...broke it." She was big as Sally had described, but big in a good way, not fat, and she had a bright smile plastered across her face, a smile I recognized immediately as a reflection of her inner personality.She was twenty-four, single and lived alone, blond and blue eyed and by the time the doctor and other patients arrived in the office around. The woman brought a taper from the front of the house and lit two candles."Sit down," she said, pinching off her thin taper's flame. She was a mature woman, thirty-some, who looked as if she might have borne several children judging from the spread of her hips. "I'm Sarah McB--. My husband was with Greene and then Gates up north." She waved and swallowed. "He was killed near Saratoga in '77, on Freeman's farm. How is Miss B--?"Oh fine, very well," I said."Dora," called Sarah McB--, "bring us. More

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