Yet in spite of her philosophy, Jane lay awake a long time that night. And later her dreams were of Judy—of Judy, and a gray and dreadful phantom which pursued....
The next day she went to the hospital and took Junior with her.
When he saw his mother in bed, Junior asked, “Do you like it, Mother-dear?”
“Like what, darling?”
“Sleeping in the daytime?”
“I don’t always sleep.” She looked at Jane. “Does little Julia miss me? I think about her in the night.”
Jane knew what Judy’s heart wanted. “She does miss you. I know it when she turns away from me. Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you. But I thought you’d rather know.”
“I do want to know,” said Judy, feverishly. “I don’t want them to forget. Jane, you mustn’t ever let them—forget.”
Jane felt as if she had been struck a stunning blow. She was, for a moment, in the midst of a dizzy universe, in which only one thing was clear. Judy wasn’t sure of getting well!
Judy, with her brown eyes wistful, went on: “Junior, do you want Mother back in your own nice house?”