"Dr. Lavendar! Willy!" she said, her voice breaking with joy, "Harriet is dead—oh, Harriet is dead!"
They stopped short in the pathway. "What—what?" stammered William King.
"Oh, Harriet is dead!" the old woman said; "and I'm so happy." She came and leaned on the closed gate at the foot of the path, smiling up into their faces. "She isn't hurt any more. Oh, I can breathe, I can breathe, now," said Miss Annie, laying her withered hands upon her throat and drawing a deep breath.
"When?" said the doctor.
"Oh, just a little while ago. As soon as she got dead I opened the windows and let the air blow in; she likes the wind when she isn't hurt."
William King said, suddenly, "My God!" and turned and ran up the path, into the house, into the room, where, indeed, there was no more hurting.
"Annie," Dr. Lavendar said, "were you with her?"
"Yes," Miss Annie said. "Harriet was hurt very much. But when she smelled her bottle she stopped being hurt."
Dr. Lavendar leaned against the gate, his breath wavering; then he sat down on the grass, and rested his forehead on his hands clasped on the top of his stick. He was unable to speak. Miss Annie came out into the road and looked at him curiously. After a while he said, feebly, "Annie, tell me about it."
"Willy wouldn't give Harriet sugar in a paper to stop the hurting. And Harriet said she couldn't get her bottle. She said it would be wrong for her to get it."