Between the bed and the wall there was the space of a foot. The mother slipped down through this space to the floor, and there lay in terror, trying to hush her breathing and still the beatings of her heart. She could not tell herself exactly what it was she dreaded more than discovery. Her fears took no definite form.
The footsteps came up to the cottage, and then stopped. Through the open window sounded voices, the voices of a man and a girl. As the concealed woman listened her heart stood still, for she recognised the male voice as that of her brother.
"Go in, Hetty," said the male voice, "and I'll wait for you here. The room is on the left-hand side."
"You won't come in?" asked the girl.
"No. Of course all is right. If you speak in the room I shall hear you."
The girl came into the cottage, opened the door of the sleeping-room, and approached the bed.
"Mother," said the boy, who was now covered up.
The concealed woman grew cold with fear.
"Are you awake, Frank?"
"Yes, mother," said the boy, stretching himself, yawning, and rubbing his eyes. "Are you going to take me away again? If you do, take Freddie too."