“Favver, please.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I fink I could go all to sleep if you’d pit your head down on my pillow next my bunny.”
A stir in the darkness, and an instant’s quiet, followed by, “Why, Favver, what makes your face all over water?”
There was no answer.
“And your beard is as wet as—” She broke off to explain to herself: “Oh, it’s rain, of tourse. I forgot it’s raining. Now I remember how to really go all to sleep. I did before. I listen to it going patter, patter, patter, patter—” The little voice died away.
There was no sound at all in the room but the swift, light voice of the watch calling out that Time, Time, Time can cure all, can cure all, can cure all—and outside the brooding murmur of the rain.
A faint, clear gray began to show at the windows.
THE END