They ran back to the old lady's room. In the girl's confused remembrance the narrow hallway seemed to be a continuation of the white, sunlit beach, with the blue sky and sea changed to faded wall paper, and the cliff gone.
Grandmother lay upon her bed, helpless, uttering harsh, guttural sounds that seemingly bore no relation to speech. Her eyes blazed at the sight of Rosemary and she tried to sit up in bed, but could not.
"When?" asked Rosemary.
"Just now," Aunt Matilda answered. "I was asleep, and when I woke up I heard her. She must have woke me up. What shall we do?" she continued, helplessly, after a pause.
A Lie
"I don't know," Rosemary whispered, almost stunned by the shock. "I'll dress and go for the doctor."
In an hour she had returned with the physician, who felt the old lady's pulse, and shook his head. In the hall, he interviewed the other two.
"Has she had any shock?" he asked.
For a moment there was no answer, then Matilda answered clearly: "No."
"No," echoed Rosemary.