"And his skin—is it cold and clammy?"
"We must give him another hot flannel," said Greta.
Mercy sat at the bedside, and said nothing for an hour. Then all at once, and in a strange, harsh voice, she said:
"I wish God had not made Ralphie so winsome."
Greta started at the words, but made no answer.
The daylight came early. As the first gleams of gray light came in at the window, Greta turned to where Mercy sat in silence. It was a sad face that she saw in the mingled yellow light of the dying lamp and the gray of the dawn.
Mercy spoke again.
"Greta, do you remember what Mistress Branthet said when her baby died last back-end gone twelvemonth?"
Greta looked up quickly at the bandaged eyes.
"What?" she asked.