“She’ll want me, an’ I must go,” he demurred.
“She do be too tired for ee to-night, my lamb.”
“Do ee mean, Mammy, that ’er do be too tired for me to say good-night to she?” Tommy was frankly incredulous.
Mammy nodded and again the tears came. “She can’t do with ee, not to-night,” she said very softly.
Much puzzled Tommy was led into the house and undressed; still puzzled he went upstairs to bed. Half-an-hour later he fell asleep, wondering.
The next day, Saturday, a reluctant Tommy was sent to spend the morning on the beach, while Mammy went along to be with Aunt Keziah Kate, for Granny’s tiredness was nearly over.
In the old-fashioned bedroom there was little to do but wait.
“She do be slippin’ away fast,” said Aunt Keziah Kate.
Gently she stroked the frail old hands that lay on the coarse coverlet. There were no tears in her eyes. There would be plenty of time for weeping afterwards, now they must just wait.
“It do be just like Gran.” Mammy hastily brushed away a tear. “Never wasn’t no trouble to no-one, wasn’t Gran. All her life she’ve spent in considerin’ others. As long as visitors was here she’ve keppen up; now that the summer’s over she do be quietly slippin’ away.”