"The kitchen clock says ten minutes past ten."
"What did you do?"
She looked surprised.
"I make the—you know the name—for my ache."
"Didn't you go out and investigate—even go to the door?"
She shook her head and gave a sort of good-humored laugh as if she was explaining things to a child.
"Go out. For why? If I go out for screams I go out when the dagoes fight, and when the automobiles be pass—up and down all night, often drunken and making noises;" she shrugged her shoulders sort of careless; "I no be bothered with screams."
"Did you go to bed?"
"I do. I make the medicine for my swole up face and go upstairs."
"Did you hear any more screams?"