They had both become aware of a sort of sibilant breathing, and they looked round them in bewilderment.
‘Where is it?’ asked Maude. ‘Frank, I believe it’s a mouse.’
‘Hope for the best. Don’t frighten yourself unnecessarily. I fancy it comes from under these curtains.’ He approached them with his candle, and was suddenly aware of a boot which was projecting from them. ‘Great Scot!’ he cried, ‘there’s a woman here asleep.’
Reassured as to the mouse, Maude approached with her saucepan still clutched in her hand. There could be no doubt either as to the woman or the sleep. She lay in an untidy heap, her head under the table, and her figure sprawling. She appeared to be a very large woman.
‘Hullo!’ cried Frank, shaking her by the shoulder. ‘Hullo, you there!’
But the woman slumbered peacefully on.
‘Heh, wake up, wake up!’ he shouted, and pulled her up into a sitting position. But she slept as soundly sitting as lying.
‘The poor thing must be ill,’ said Maude. ‘O Frank, shall I run for a doctor?’
‘Wake up, woman, wake up!’ Frank yelled, and danced her up and down. She flopped about like a sawdust doll, with her arms swinging in front of her. He panted with his exertions, but she was serenely unconscious. At last he had to lower her on to the floor again, putting a footstool under her head.
‘It’s no go,’ said he. ‘I can make nothing of her. She will sleep it off.’