"My heart is as cold as a stone in the sea"—it ran.
Yet Poppy had never seen the sea.
Everyone in the world seemed to be sleeping except the dead people and Poppy. Even the clock in the Government buildings struck as though muffled up in blankets, speaking in its sleep. When it was striking she raised her head to listen and count the strokes, and forgetting the horror of the night opened her eyes—and beheld a terrible, shroudy vision creeping over the world. It came very slowly and stealthily, like a grey witch in a tale of horror, and ate up little patches of darkness as it came, swelling larger as it ate. Oh! the dead people swaying to and fro on the water! She prayed they might be gone back to their graves before the grey witch reached them with her long, clutching fingers; she prayed in a frenzy of fear for herself, calling to Christ and Mary Mother of God, to save her from the grey witch. She rocked herself backwards and forwards, praying and moaning, and almost falling from the tree, and at last in reckless desperation opened her eyes, and glared out over the dam—and saw that the dawn had come. The grey witch had turned into a lovely lady, all decked in palest pink, with her arms spread wide in the sky, trailing long veils of sheeny lavender cloud behind her.
A man and a boy with guns in their hands were creeping along under the dam wall, trying to get near a covey of wild duck on the water. Presently they stopped, and crouching, took aim and fired. The birds rose in a swarm and flew shrieking in long black lines, leaving two poor little black bodies on the dam—one flapping the water with a feeble wing, trying to rise, and falling back every time. The boy threw off his clothes and went in after them, while the man drew under the shadow of the dam wall, and began to run, making for the far side of the water, where the ducks seemed likely to settle again.
Presently the lady of the sky grew brighter and streaks of gold came into her pink and lavender veils; the grass was all silvery with the heavy dew, and the earth gave up a sweet and lovely smell. God seems to go away from Africa at night, but He comes back most beautiful and radiant in the morning. Birds began to chirrup and twitter in the trees and bushes, and take little flying journeys in the air. The clock struck five—clear and bell-like strokes now, that sang and echoed out into the morning.
Poppy felt cold and stiff and hungry, and very tired, as though she should fall down and die if she stayed in the tree any longer.
There was nothing to do, and nowhere to go but home. After all, Aunt Lena could only kill her once. Then she would join Ina and see her mother, and hear Irish melodies, and be where it was not cold or lonely any more. She got down from the tree almost cheerfully and made her way through the grass, plucking a few crase bessies by the way and munching them as she walked. There was hardly anyone about the town, except a few boys carrying pails of water from the fountain. When she reached home, she found that the house was still shut and locked, with all the blinds down. So she sat on the kitchen step and waited until old Sara, coming out to get wood for the fire, nearly fell over her.
"Tch! Tch! Tch!" she clucked. "Arme kentze! War vas sig gisterand?" (Poor child! Where were you last night?)
"Dar bij de dam. Ge koffi O'Sara. Ik is freeslik kow." (Up by the Big Dam. Give me some coffee, Sara. I am very cold.)