"One may easily think a stiff bolt has gone home, and all the while——"
"But I am sure."
My easy certainty seemed to anger her. "I thought so, too, once." She said it with a vehemence that startled me.
After a moment: "Was that here?" I asked.
"No, no, no"—she shook it off.
I went and knelt down by the bed. "Tell me about it, mother."
"No, no. It is not the kind of thing you need ever know."
"How can you be sure? You weren't expecting anything to happen." I felt my way by the shrinking in her face. "Yet someone came to the unbolted door——?"
"What makes you think that!" she exclaimed, and I was hot and cold under her look.
"It—it only came into my head"; and then, with fresh courage, or renewed curiosity, "But I am right!" I said, with sudden firmness. "Isn't it so? You were horribly frightened, weren't you?" I touched her hand, expecting she would draw it away from me, but the fingers had locked on the silk frill of the quilt. They were cold; they made me think of death.