Lucinda was hurrying, her curiosity being as potent as the commands of her mistress, and five seconds later Janice appeared in the door with her predecessor just behind her—a striking contrast.
“You dear blessed Granite!” cried the old lady, stretching out her hands in a sort of ecstasy. “Oh, my! but I’m glad to see you! Come right straight here. No, shut the door first. Lucinda, you go and do ’most anything. An’ how is the city?”
Janice came to the bedside and dropped on her knees there, taking Aunt Mary’s withered hand close in both of her own.
“You didn’t shut the door,” the old lady whispered hoarsely. “I wish you would—an’ bolt it, too. An’ then come straight back to me.”
Janice closed and bolted the door, and returned to the bedside. Aunt Mary drew her down close to her, and her voice and eyes were hungry, indeed. For a little she looked eagerly upon what she had so craved to possess again, and then she suddenly asked:
“Granite, have you got any cigarettes with you?”
The maid started a little.
“Do you smoke now?” she asked, with interest.
“No,” said Aunt Mary sadly, “an’ that’s one more of my awful troubles. You see I’m jus’ achin’ to smell smoke, an’ Joshua promised his mother the night before he was twenty-one. You don’t know nothin’ about how terrible I feel. I’m empty somewhere jus’ all the time. Don’t you believe’t you could get some cigarettes an’ smoke ’em right close to me, an’ let me lay here, an’ be so happy while I smell. I’ll have a good doctor for you, if you’re sick from it.”
The maid reflected; then she nodded.