"And so Cherrie's gone, Ann?"
"Yes," said Ann; "and I'm glad of it. We will have some peace for a while, which we don't have when she's here, with her gadding."
Nathalie walked slowly back to the house, wondering and awed by the weird and ghostly look of the sky. The evening was so close and oppressive that no breath of air was to be had; yet still it was better than the house, and she lingered in the grounds until the lightning shot out like tongues of blue flame, and the first heavy raindrops began to fall.
Hurrying in out of the coming storm, followed by Bob Nettleby, who opined it was going to be a "blazer of a night," she saw that all the doors and windows were secured, and then returned to Mrs. Leroy's room to administer the opiate. She found the old woman in a doze, from which her entrance aroused her, and raised her with her right arm in bed, while she held the glass to her lips with her left hand.
"It will make you sleep, dear Mrs. Leroy," the girl said, "and you will be as well as ever to-morrow."
"I hope so, Natty.—Is that thunder?"
"Yes; it is going to be a stormy night. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?"
"Yes; turn down that lamp; I don't like so much light."
A little kerosene lamp burned on the table. Nathalie lowered the light, and turned to go.
"Good-night," she said, "I will come in once or twice through the night to see how you are. You are sure you do not want anything more?"