"No, Auntie."
Aunt Amy shivered. For a moment her faded eyes grew large and dark. "I'm glad you did not guess it. It is a dreadful feeling, like night and thunder and no place to go. A black feeling! I used to be afraid I might get caught in the blackness and never find a way out and then—"
"And then what, dear?"
"Why, then—I'd be mad, Esther!"
"Oh, darling, how awful!" Esther's warm young arms clasped the trembling old creature close. "You must never, never be afraid again! Why didn't you tell me and let me help?"
"I couldn't. You would not have believed me. And it would have frightened you. And you might have told Mary. If Mary knew of it she would be certain to be frightened and if she was frightened she would send me away. Then the darkness would get me."
"It never shall, Auntie. No one shall ever send you away! And you won't be afraid any more, will you?"
"No, not if you don't keep telling me that things I know aren't true. I know they are true, you see, but when you say they aren't it makes my head go round."
"We'll be more careful, dear! And here is your medicine before you have your supper."
Aunt Amy turned cheerfully to the supper tray.