“How do you know?”
“Look how 'fraid she was! I peeped into their wagon in the woods, and as soon as she opened her eyes and saw the man with the pig's head, she began to scream, and they smothered her up.”
Grandma Padgett was now sitting on the lounge with Carrie lifted into her lap. Her voice was steady, but rather sharp. “This child's in a fit! Robert Day, run to the woman of the house and tell her to bring hot water as soon as she can.”
During the confusion which followed, and while Carrie was partially undressed, rubbed, dipped, and dosed between her set teeth, the stranger himself went out to the log steps and stood looking from one end of the street to the other. The dissipated young man appeared nowhere in the twilight.
Returning, the lawyer found Grandma Padgett holding her patient wrapped in shawls. The landlady stood by, much concerned, and talking about a great many remedies beside such as she held in her hands. Aunt Corinne and Robert Day maintained the attitude of guards, one on each side of the door.
Carrie was not only conscious again, but wide awake and tingling through all her little body. Her eyes had a different expression. They saw everything, from the candle the landlady held over her, to the stranger entering: they searched the walls piteously, and passed the faces of Bobaday and aunt Corinne as if they by no means recognized these larger children.
“I want my mamma!” she wailed. Tears ran down her face and Grandma Padgett wiped them away. But Carrie resisted her hand.
“Go away!” she exclaimed. “You aren't my mamma!”
“Poor little love!” sighed the landlady, who had picked up some information about the child.
“And you aren't my mamma!” resented Carrie. “I want my mamma to come to her little Rose.”