"I will stay," I said. But my heart died within me.
The doctor took me aside.
"Her injuries are very serious," he said. "If she has any friends, they ought to be sent for."
"You don't mean that she is going to die?" I asked.
"I fear she is. But not immediately." He took leave, and I went back to the bedside. I saw there no longer a snuffy, repulsive old woman, but a human being about to make that mysterious journey a far country whence there is no return. Oh, how I wished mother were there!
"Susan," I said, "have you any relatives?"
"No, I haven't," she answered sharply. "And if I had they needn't come prowling around me. I don't want no relations about my body."
"Would you like to see Dr. Cabot?"
"What should I want of Dr. Cabot? Don't tease, child."
Considering the deference with which she had heretofore treated me, this was quite a new order of things.