Alice went upstairs, carrying the bottle in one hand and holding Bobby's fist with the other. May came behind.
When they reached the nursery, the baby seemed so quiet that Alice set the bottle on the mantel shelf and began to undress Bobby.
It was summery dusk in the room. Outside the window the city melted in hyacinth mist. The gold lights in the houses across the street were still like a row of crocuses. Everything else seemed to be shaken in the trembling dusk. The room quivered, unreal.
In the half dark, May watched Aunt Alice.
"Climb into bed, Bobby."
"He didn't say his prayers, Aunt Alice."
"Well, he can say his prayers tomorrow night."
May knew that she, too, would not be allowed to say her prayers. Aunt Alice was awful. Aunt Alice in the dark, like a tower. Prayers seemed an incantation against an evil which Aunt Alice desired.
"Can you undo your own dress?"
May squirmed and bent forward. Her hand reached up to the first button.