the care of her husband, but her passive "Yas, suh" did not reassure him that his wishes would be carried out, and his hopes for the man's recovery grew less as he realized the conditions of the home. After riding a short distance, he turned to Cassandra.
"Won't you go back and make her understand that he is to be left absolutely alone? Scare her into making the children keep away from his bed, and not climb into it. You made him do as I wished, with only a word, and maybe you can do something with her. I can't."
She turned back, and David watched her at the door talking with the woman, who came out to her and handed her a bundle of something tied in a meal sack. He wondered what it might be, and Cassandra explained.
"These are the yarbs I sent her and the children aftah. I didn't know how to rid the cabin of them without I sent for something, and now I don't know what to do with these. We—we're obliged to use them some way." She hesitated—"I reckon I didn't do right telling her that—do you guess? I had to make out like you needed them and had sent back for them; it—it wouldn't do to mad her—not one of her sort." Her head drooped with shame and she added pleadingly, "Mother has used these plants for making tea for sick folks—but—"
He rode to her side and lifted the unwieldy load to his own horse, "Be ye wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove," he said, laughing.