A/N: Since people liked my fic *grins*, I decided to write another. I don't
know much about smallpox, so please don't sue me! And IPLEASE WRITE SOME
LIBERTY'S KIDS FICS! IT'S HARD TO DO HTEM ALL ON MY OWN!
"Uhh." James trudged inside the printer shop.
Sara looked over to James. "James! James, you don't look so good!" She placed her hand on James's forehead, where James savored its coolness. "And you're burning up! Oh, James! I think you have smallpox! Oh dear.Moses! James isn't feeling right!"
Moses came over to the two teenagers. "I think you're right, Sara. You look horrible, James! And right when we were getting another journalist."
Henri looked up. "Anuzer one? But we haf two already." He wrinkled his nose. "Well, when iz 'e coming? And iz James going to be all right?"
Moses looked thoughtfully at the young American. "It looks like a somewhat mild case, but he needs to rest anyhow. And *she* is coming around Thursday. She's around your age, Henri."
"Thursday? But it's already Monday! She's going to stay here, isn't she?" James inquired, as he dragged himself up to his room, with help from Sara.
Moses nodded. "Now I suggest you going up to sleep. No wonder you got smallpox. Must've gotten it from the vaccine, like Sara, except a bit delayed. Neither of you will get it again though." He shooed the two teenagers and the little 11-year-old French lad up the stairs to bed.
***
"Do you think James is delirious? He keeps mumbling Henri and yours and my names." Sara gestured upstairs.
It was the Wednesday, and it was a cool wintry morning. Sara had just come down from giving James his breakfast- a hot roll, some butter, and warm milk. She was the only one who could go up there, since she had the vaccine already, and had gotten over the smallpox.
"I'm not sure, but I think it's one of the symptoms. He'll get over it. What has he said?" Moses looked at Sara expectantly, who was wrinkling her nose and trying to remember.
"He said.let's see.that the British are very terrible- but he said I was one of the good ones and he was lucky to know me-," Sara cheeks reddened at this, but she kept speaking, "He also said that you need report his article.that Henri-" Henri looked up from his blueberry jam and rolls. "- Was calling him the enemy- not the Tories, but the grown-ups!" All three laughed good-naturedly at that.
"He's starting to act a bit like his own self, not like yesterday, when he was all gaunt and pale and all." Sara said. "He'll be better around Friday, don't you think?"
Moses looked at her waiting face and nodded. "Let's hope so," he said, a bit gravely.
***
But it certainly didn't seem that way for James. There was a frost that night and his fever went up, sky-high. Sara stayed with him, even though Moses had comforted them by saying that his recovery would just be a bit delayed, and that was all.
Sara said sadly that she'd rather sit with him, and that Moses and Henri should go get the new occupant that was to enter their home.
"Well, Henri, let's go."
Henri looked at him and groaned. "Do I haf to come? I want to stay and help Sara with James!" Moses smiled.
"You can't, because you might get smallpox also, and we don't want that." So he and Henri walked out to the docks to meet the new soon-to-be journalist of the 'Pennsylvania Gazette'.
***
"Hello? Is anyone around?"
Sara looked up at abrupt sound of a lilting accent of a teenage boy. "Who is it? Why are you here, please?" James moaned as the noise of people talking woke him. His eyes opened briefly. "Sara.?" He mumbled. She turned and looked at James. He saw her, and as if taking reassurance at the sight of her sweet face and vibrant red hair, he fell in to sleep again.
Sara smiled, and covered his face more with the blankets. Tall and handsome- looking even with smallpox, James snuggled into the sheets.
Sara went down the stairs and her eyes met with a boy who looked around sixteen, two years older than her.
His eyes turned on her, and they seemed to sparkle. He bent down on one knee, took her hand and kissed it. "Why hello. I never knew a beautiful young nymph lived here."
Sara blushed, than laughed inwardly. 'None of the boys ever tried *that* before,' she thought, thinking of all the young boys who did this. It was like they were proposing or something. She knew it was to be a proper way to greet a lady that you liked, even if it was the first time in meeting them, but, even though her mother told her to accept it, she secretly thought it was rather stupid.
"Well, hello. I'm very much pleased to meet you. My name is Sara Phillips. And you are?"
"Och, I forget to tell ye. Michael McCourt. I'm tickled to meet ye too, but I was looking for Moses. My friend, the blacksmith George Wicker, wants to put an advertisement in the paper."
Sara raised an eyebrow at the word tickled 'Okaaay.' she thought.
"Oh. I'm sorry. They aren't here. They're off to receive the new journalist that's coming."
"Och, well, I'll come back later," Michel smiled and left.. When he had gotten outside, he turned around and smiled. "Goodbye, Nymph." And he left, leaving her confused and blushing. She quickly entered back into the house/shop and went back upstairs.
Sooo.. Like? Hate? Will flame? (please no) I'm off my other fics for a while to work on this one. I hope other people will write more on Liberty's Kids, because. I REALLY LUV THEM! (excuse the sp remark on "love")And the Irish stuff is all from the book Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, whose brother is Michael. It's a really good book, but meant for 30+, but I read it anyways. (
"Uhh." James trudged inside the printer shop.
Sara looked over to James. "James! James, you don't look so good!" She placed her hand on James's forehead, where James savored its coolness. "And you're burning up! Oh, James! I think you have smallpox! Oh dear.Moses! James isn't feeling right!"
Moses came over to the two teenagers. "I think you're right, Sara. You look horrible, James! And right when we were getting another journalist."
Henri looked up. "Anuzer one? But we haf two already." He wrinkled his nose. "Well, when iz 'e coming? And iz James going to be all right?"
Moses looked thoughtfully at the young American. "It looks like a somewhat mild case, but he needs to rest anyhow. And *she* is coming around Thursday. She's around your age, Henri."
"Thursday? But it's already Monday! She's going to stay here, isn't she?" James inquired, as he dragged himself up to his room, with help from Sara.
Moses nodded. "Now I suggest you going up to sleep. No wonder you got smallpox. Must've gotten it from the vaccine, like Sara, except a bit delayed. Neither of you will get it again though." He shooed the two teenagers and the little 11-year-old French lad up the stairs to bed.
***
"Do you think James is delirious? He keeps mumbling Henri and yours and my names." Sara gestured upstairs.
It was the Wednesday, and it was a cool wintry morning. Sara had just come down from giving James his breakfast- a hot roll, some butter, and warm milk. She was the only one who could go up there, since she had the vaccine already, and had gotten over the smallpox.
"I'm not sure, but I think it's one of the symptoms. He'll get over it. What has he said?" Moses looked at Sara expectantly, who was wrinkling her nose and trying to remember.
"He said.let's see.that the British are very terrible- but he said I was one of the good ones and he was lucky to know me-," Sara cheeks reddened at this, but she kept speaking, "He also said that you need report his article.that Henri-" Henri looked up from his blueberry jam and rolls. "- Was calling him the enemy- not the Tories, but the grown-ups!" All three laughed good-naturedly at that.
"He's starting to act a bit like his own self, not like yesterday, when he was all gaunt and pale and all." Sara said. "He'll be better around Friday, don't you think?"
Moses looked at her waiting face and nodded. "Let's hope so," he said, a bit gravely.
***
But it certainly didn't seem that way for James. There was a frost that night and his fever went up, sky-high. Sara stayed with him, even though Moses had comforted them by saying that his recovery would just be a bit delayed, and that was all.
Sara said sadly that she'd rather sit with him, and that Moses and Henri should go get the new occupant that was to enter their home.
"Well, Henri, let's go."
Henri looked at him and groaned. "Do I haf to come? I want to stay and help Sara with James!" Moses smiled.
"You can't, because you might get smallpox also, and we don't want that." So he and Henri walked out to the docks to meet the new soon-to-be journalist of the 'Pennsylvania Gazette'.
***
"Hello? Is anyone around?"
Sara looked up at abrupt sound of a lilting accent of a teenage boy. "Who is it? Why are you here, please?" James moaned as the noise of people talking woke him. His eyes opened briefly. "Sara.?" He mumbled. She turned and looked at James. He saw her, and as if taking reassurance at the sight of her sweet face and vibrant red hair, he fell in to sleep again.
Sara smiled, and covered his face more with the blankets. Tall and handsome- looking even with smallpox, James snuggled into the sheets.
Sara went down the stairs and her eyes met with a boy who looked around sixteen, two years older than her.
His eyes turned on her, and they seemed to sparkle. He bent down on one knee, took her hand and kissed it. "Why hello. I never knew a beautiful young nymph lived here."
Sara blushed, than laughed inwardly. 'None of the boys ever tried *that* before,' she thought, thinking of all the young boys who did this. It was like they were proposing or something. She knew it was to be a proper way to greet a lady that you liked, even if it was the first time in meeting them, but, even though her mother told her to accept it, she secretly thought it was rather stupid.
"Well, hello. I'm very much pleased to meet you. My name is Sara Phillips. And you are?"
"Och, I forget to tell ye. Michael McCourt. I'm tickled to meet ye too, but I was looking for Moses. My friend, the blacksmith George Wicker, wants to put an advertisement in the paper."
Sara raised an eyebrow at the word tickled 'Okaaay.' she thought.
"Oh. I'm sorry. They aren't here. They're off to receive the new journalist that's coming."
"Och, well, I'll come back later," Michel smiled and left.. When he had gotten outside, he turned around and smiled. "Goodbye, Nymph." And he left, leaving her confused and blushing. She quickly entered back into the house/shop and went back upstairs.
Sooo.. Like? Hate? Will flame? (please no) I'm off my other fics for a while to work on this one. I hope other people will write more on Liberty's Kids, because. I REALLY LUV THEM! (excuse the sp remark on "love")And the Irish stuff is all from the book Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, whose brother is Michael. It's a really good book, but meant for 30+, but I read it anyways. (