Page:Emily Climbs.pdf/194

 Would you like to go to bed? It’s quite airly, but mebbe you're tired an’ ’ud ruther be where you can’t hear her, pore soul. She wouldn’t take the tea—she’s scared the doctor put a sleeping pill in it. She doesn’t want to sleep till he’s found, dead or alive. If he’s in the quicksands o’ course he never be found.”

“Julia Hollinger, you are a fool and the daughter of a fool, but surely even you must see that a child be lost in the nineteenth century,” said Grandfather Bradshaw.

“Well, if it was anybody but you called me a fool, Grandfather, I’d be mad,” said Mrs. Hollinger, a trifle tartly. She lighted a lamp and took the girls upstairs. “I hope you'll sleep. I advise you to get in between the blankets though there’s sheets on the bed. They wuz all aired today, blankets and sheets. I thought it’d be better to air ’em in case there was a funeral. I remember the New Moon Murrays wuz always particular about airing their beds, so I thought I’d mention it. Listen to that wind. We'll likely hear of awful damage from this storm. I wouldn’t wonder if the roof blew off this house tonight. Troubles never come singly. I advise you not to git upset if you hear a noise through the night. If the men bring the body home Clara’ll likely act like all possessed, pore thing. Mebbe you'd better turn the key in the lock. Old Mrs. McIntyre wanders round a bit sometimes. She’s quite harmless and mostly sane enough but it gives folks a start.”

The girls felt relieved as the door closed behind Mrs. Hollinger. She was a good soul, doing her neighbourly duty as she conceived it, faithfully, but she was not exactly cheerful company. They found themselves in a tiny, meticulously neat “spare room” under the sloping eaves. Most of the space in it was occupied by a big comfortable bed that looked as if it were meant to be slept in, and not merely to decorate the room. A little four-paned window, with a spotless white muslin frill,