"Yes, yes, that will do," said Thora.
"You'll be as quiet as a mouse, and I'll make lots of noises."
"Yes, yes, yes."
There was the clang of a bell from below, and Aunt Margret whispered, "There they are! Now put baby back in the cot, my own, and cover her up with the blanket."
"Not yet, let me kiss her again, just for the last time," said Thora.
An agitated voice came from the bottom of the stairs, "Margret! Margret Neilsen!"
"I must go--be quick," whispered Aunt Margret, and scuttling down-stairs, she cried, "I'm coming," and then there was a rumble of confused voices, followed by the closing of a door.
Thora was alone once more, and the feverish strength of outraged motherhood possessed her like a madness. "They've come to take my child again," she thought.
In a moment she had slipped off her slippers, snatched up the blanket and wrapped it about the sleeping infant, crept down the stairs in stocking feet and out of the house by a back passage.
V