The clock outside struck one. How slowly the minutes went.
At last it struck two, and a breeze stirred the leaves outside.
They were the leaves of the maple Clematis had broken in the early Spring. Now they seemed to whisper softly to each other.
All else was silent.
Miss Rose had watched a long time. Many days she had been by the bed. Her eyes began to droop.
“I’ll rest my head just a minute,” she thought, and leaned back upon the chair.
Slowly the clock struck three. As the last stroke came, Miss Rose stirred, and opened her eyes.
Then she started up.
“I must have been asleep,” she said aloud. “Oh, shame on me for sleeping, when I promised to watch.”