That night Cuff was dreaming the old haunting dream about waking up in the gutter when something startled him. It was a very soft call.
"Come up here, Cuff, I want you—close!"
Cuff needed no second invitation! But the closer he got the more nervous he became.
"Cuff, look at me!"
Cuff looked.
"Cuff—once—you wouldn't have looked!"
Cuff denied this by a vigorous whack of his stumpy tail.
There were a few minutes more during which Patricia said some very remarkable things about being glad that children and dogs could look at her; and that Joan felt happy with her, and that love had something to say for itself if you didn't wrong it, and then Cuff voluntarily jumped from the bed and scampered into Joan's room. Joan was sleeping and Cuff had to tug rather savagely at her sleeve before he attracted her attention. But when Joan was awake every sense was alert.
"What's the matter?" she asked, but while she was speaking she was on her way to Patricia's room.
Patricia was tossing about and laughing gently; she was insisting that she was going up the Climbing Way and that the travelling was hard and the weather hot! For a moment Joan stood still. All her strength deserted her, but in that instant she knew the worst, as people do at times—when the end is near!