"Did she?"
They were silent a minute. Mrs. Morel gulped the little clean milk.
"Annie, that draught was horrid!" she said plaintively.
"Was it, my love? Well, never mind."
The mother sighed again with weariness. Her pulse was very irregular.
"Let us settle you down," said Annie. "Perhaps nurse will be so late."
"Ay," said the mother—"try."
They turned the clothes back. Paul saw his mother like a girl curled up in her flannel nightdress. Quickly they made one half the bed, moved her, made the other, straightened her nightgown over her small feet, and covered her up.
"There," said Paul, stroking her softly. "There!—now you'll sleep."
"Yes," she said. "I didn't think you could do the bed so nicely," she added, almost gaily. Then she curled up, with her cheek on her hand, her head snugged between her shoulder. Paul put the long thin plait of grey hair over her shoulder and kissed her.