"Like last Sunday; maybe worse."

They groaned. At this moment the sound of heavy shambling footsteps was heard on the stairs.

"Here she is."

The steps stopped, then there was a fall, followed by a moan.

"She's fallen down!"

"Suppose she can't get up?"

"She'd sleep as well on the stairs as here."

"And we'd sleep better."

The moaning continued, interrupted by calls for help.

"Come, Laide," called out a thick voice; "give us a hand, my child."