The old woman gave a sigh of relief and said no more. The task of overriding her daughter, short and sharp though it had been, had cost too much of her strength. She had summoned every atom of her indomitable will to cower her adversary into making this unwilling promise. She had spoken as though the fortunes of life and death, of heaven and hell, were in her hands, and so extensive had been her mastery of this grumbling family that even the self-willed daughter flinched from the shadow of her curse. But her strength was failing; she knew how much had been spent in this passionate plea for Nancy; in her hour of weakness they might lose their dread of her temper, grow bold like village mongrels round a dying wolf. She lay quiet, husbanding what force remained, determined to keep her lifelong spell hard upon them to the end.
Her daughter felt it was safe to leave the patient for an hour. She got into long discussion with Nancy's mother-in-law over the promise which had been wrung out of her by the t'ai-t'ai. They talked the matter to and fro, back and forth, nosing out ways to evade the spirit while they kept the letter of this pledge. Away from the sick room, in the still cold sunshine which had followed the storm, the death of the old lady who had ruled them so long did not really seem so near at hand as to alarm them. Nor did it seem so in the sick room itself when Nancy appeared and found the t'ai-t'ai apparently resting.
Nancy felt stronger after her sleep and could not understand that her mistress had not been refreshed at the same time. When the sick woman said, "Death is a slow business," the girl was inclined to treat the remark lightly. The house seemed comfortingly peaceful after the wind which had been raging round the courtyards and tearing tiles loose from the eaves.
But the doctor, when he came, was not so well satisfied. He looked at the thermometer, and he shook his head.
"You have been exerting yourself," he said; "there is more fever here than there should be."
"Of course there is fever," scoffed the patient; "how can one be sick and not have fever?"
As for exerting herself, she laughed at the notion. What exertion could an old woman make when she was kept tied to her bed?
"Did you think I would jump up and play shuttlecock like a schoolboy?"
She dismissed the subject of her infirmities. "Have you brought him?" she asked.
The doctor knew whom she meant. "Yes, I brought him," he said, "but I am not sure it would be good for you to see him."