"What—what's the matter?" she stammered.
"Hush—don't wake up Shirley and start her crying," warned Winnie who looked taller than ever in the scant gray dressing gown she had pulled tightly about her. "Sarah wouldn't wake if the house caved in—there, do you hear that?"
Rosemary listened intently. She shook her head.
"I don't hear anything," she said.
"Then come out in the hall and you will," advised Winnie, stalking toward the door.
Rosemary followed sleepily. She didn't want to listen to noises and she couldn't help wishing that Winnie had been a little harder of hearing.
"There—hear that?" Winnie's tone was almost triumphant.
Through the whole house sounded a wail that rose as they listened and mounted to a shriek. In spite of her desire to remain cool and calm, Rosemary shivered.
"It woke me up," whispered Winnie fearfully. "I never, in all my born days, heard anything like it."
"What—what makes it?" said Rosemary.