"Mother!"
No answer, but a quiver of drooping lids.
"Mother!"
At the sharp terror of the voice the lids lifted themselves and fell again.
"Yu ain't a-dyin', mother?"
"'Course I ain't."
"Yer promussed! Yer said yer warn't a-dyin'!"
"An' I ain't."
"Then don't kape a-lookin' o' that mander. Lay hold o' th' comb an' du my ringolets."