"It's Miriam—Miriam—" the word came vaguely. "You must look after her."
"I do try," Helen said, and hearing the strangeness of her own voice she coughed and choked to cover it.
"What does that mean?"
"What?" Helen's hand was at her throat.
"You are trying to deceive me. Something has happened. Tell me at once!"
"I swallowed the wrong way," Helen said. "It's hurting still."
"I do not believe you."
"Oh, but, Notya, you must. You know I don't tell lies. Why should you be so much afraid for Miriam?"
"Because—Did I say anything? My head aches a little. In fact, I don't feel well." The rolling-pin fell noisily to the floor. "Tiresome!" she said, and sank into a chair.
When Helen returned with the medicine which Zebedee had left for such emergencies, she found her stepmother beside the rolling-pin. Her mouth was open and a little twisted, and she was heavy and unwieldy when Helen raised her body and made it lean against the wall.