Then
she turned inward, a sigh trembling between her lips.
"Oh, Mamma Hat, I--"
But Mrs. Goldstone's chair was empty. Into it with a second and more
tremulous sigh sank Miss Goldstone, her lips lifted in the smile that
had been kissed.
When Mr. Goldstone slept, every alternate breath started with a rumble
somewhere down in the depths of him and, drawn up like a chain from a
well, petered out into a thin whistle before the next descent. Beside
him, now, on her knees, Mrs. Goldstone shook at his shoulder.
"I.W.! I.W.! Quick! Wake up!"
He let out a shuddering, abysmal breath.
"I.W.! Please!"
He moaned, turning his face from her.
She tugged him around again, now raising his face between her hands from
the pillow.
"I.W.! Try to wake up! For God's sake, I.W.!" He sprang up in a
terrified daze, sitting upright in bed.
"My God! Who? What's wrong? Effie! Hattie."
"No, no; don't get excited, I.W. It's me--Hattie!"
"What?"
"Nothing, I.W. Nothing to get excited about. Only I got to tell you
something."
"Where's Effie?"
"She's home."
"What time is it?"
"Three."
"Come back to bed, then; you got the nightmare."
"No, no!"
"You ain't well, Hattie? Let me light up.
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