Somebody laughed, a kind of choked giggle, and I heard one of those fresh write-up chaps behind me whisper:
"This is the comic relief."
"Oh, you heard noises—what kind of noises?"
"The scream," she said.
"You heard a scream?"
"Yes—one scream—far away, up toward Cresset's Crossing. I go crazy with the pain and after Mr. Hines is come upstairs I go down to the kitchen to make——" she stopped, looking up in the air—"what you call him?"—she put her hand flat on the side of her face—"for here, to stop the pain."
"Do you mean a poultice?"
She grinned all over and nodded.
"Yes, that's him. I make hot water on the gas, and then, way off, I hear a scream."
"What time was that?"