Mechanically that lady obeyed the peremptory summons, too completely stunned and shocked by this unheard-of effrontery to fully realize for a moment that her ears had not deceived her.
She approached and bent over the sufferer. Two hollow eyes were raised to her face, and feeling herself in the awful presence of death, all Miss Jerusha's indignation faded away, and she said, in a softened voice:
"I am sorry to see you in this wretched place. Can I do anything for you?"
"Who are you?" said the woman, transfixing her with a gaze quite as uncompromising as her little daughter's had been.
"My name is Jerusha Skamp. I saw a light in this here cottage, and came over to see who was here. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing for me—I am dying," said the woman, in a husky, hollow voice. "Nothing for me; nothing for me."
"Oh, mamma! oh, mamma!" screamed the child, passionately. "Oh, not dying! Oh, mamma!"
"Oh, Georgia, hush!" said the woman, turning restlessly. "Don't shriek so, child; I cannot bear it."
But Georgia, who seemed to have no sort of self-control, or any other sort of control, still continued to scream her wild, passionate cry, "Oh, not dying! oh, mamma!" until Miss Jerusha, losing all patience, caught her arm in a vise-like grip, and, giving her a furious shake, said, in a deep, stern whisper:
"You little limb! Do you want to kill your mother? Hold your tongue, afore I shake the life out of you!"