"Child," she said quickly, "is your Grandmother awake?" Her voice was soft.
"I haven't been in yet. I always come to you first. The nurse is with her."
"Go and see. I must speak to her."
"Speak to her, Aunt? You mean you want me to give her a message."
"No, Child. I must speak to her with my own voice. Go first and find whether she is awake."
"Yes," I reported.
"Now then. Open the door wide. Yes—now put that chair against it, so it can't swing to. Now go and do likewise with your Grandmother's door. First move me right to the edge of the bed—thank 'ee! There!" I propped her up amid her pillows.
Then with Grandmother and her door I did the same. (The nurse was downstairs.)
Though the two old women could not see each other, despite the width of the passage their faces cannot have been more than seven yards apart. Grandmother's deafness had increased with her years, but today, helped out now and then with a word from me, she heard everything. I stood just inside Grandmother's room, watching her face, and listening to Aunt Jael, whose voice was calm and clear.
"Can you hear me, Hannah?"