“It's no use; I can't do anything more. You're a vampire!”
“Who is a vampire?” asked Edith, hoping that her mother would repeat some name.
But the question seemed to put her on her guard. The expression of fear went out of her face, and she looked at her daughter curiously.
Edith did not repeat the question. In a little while the mother's wandering thoughts began to find words again, and she went on talking in broken sentences out of which little could be gleaned. At length she said, turning to Edith and speaking with the directness of one in her right mind,
“I told you her name was Gray, didn't I? Gray, not Bray.”
It was only by a quick and strong effort that Edith could steady her voice as she replied:
“Yes; you said it was Gray.”
“Gray, not Bray. You thought it was Bray.”
“But it's Gray,” said Edith, falling in with her mother's humor. Then she added, still trying to keep her voice even,
“She was my nurse when baby was born.”