Well? Are not all candles reluctant to go out?
Come, come! No quarrelling, no quarrelling! Whether the candle chooses to go out or not, the Man's time is fast ebbing away.
Do you remember his motor-car? Once it nearly ran me down.
And his mansion, too, with the sixteen rooms in it?
Yes. I was in them a short while ago. The rats nearly devoured me, and the draughts nearly blew me away, for some one had stolen the window-frames from their sockets, and the wind was tearing through the rooms.
And you had a snooze on the very bed on which his Wife died, did you not? Oh, you sentimental old thing!
I did. But I must confess that some queer thoughts passed through my mind as I wandered through those rooms. There used to be such a charming nursery in the mansion, and I felt hurt to see that its windows were all shattered, and that the wind was blowing the dust in clouds over the floor. And there used to be such a lovely little cradle in the room! Now the rats are making their nests in that nursery, and rocking their children to sleep in that cradle.
Oh the dear little naked rat-children!
[The Old Women chuckle.]
And on a table in the study, I saw some broken toys—a little horse without a tail, a pasteboard helmet, and a red-nosed clown doll. I played with them each in turn, and tried on the helmet. It would have suited me well enough if it had only been a trifle less mouldy and covered with dust.