bent close down and looked at her.

"Isn't it awful!" whispered Annie.

He nodded. They sat down again helplessly. Again came the great, snoring
breath. Again they hung suspended. Again it was given back, long and
harsh. The sound, so irregular, at such wide intervals, sounded through
the house. Morel, in his room, slept on. Paul and Annie sat crouched,
huddled, motionless. The great snoring sound began again--there was a
painful pause while the breath was held--back came the rasping breath.
Minute after minute passed. Paul looked at her again, bending low over
her.

"She may last like this," he said.

They were both silent. He looked out of the window, and could faintly
discern the snow on the garden.

"You go to my bed," he said to Annie. "I'll sit up."

"No," she said, "I'll stop with you."

"I'd rather you didn't," he said.

At last Annie crept out of the room, and he was alone. He hugged himself
in his brown blanket, crouched in front of his mother, watching. She
looked dreadful, with the bottom jaw fallen back. He watched. Sometimes
he thought the great breath would never begin again. He could not bear
it--the waiting. Then suddenly, startling him, came the great harsh
sound. He mended the fire again, noiselessly. She must not be disturbed.
The minutes went by. The night was going, breath by breath. Each time
the sound came he felt it wring him, till at last he could not feel so
much.

His father got up. Paul heard the miner drawing his stockings on,
yawning. Then Morel, in shirt and stockings, entered.

"Hush!" said Paul.

Morel stood watching. Then he looked at his son, helplessly, and in
horror.

"Had I better stop a-whoam?" he whispered.

"No. Go to work. She'll last through to-morrow."

"I don't think so."

"Yes. Go to work."

The miner looked at her again, in fear, and went obediently out of the
room. Paul saw the tape of his garters swinging against his legs.

After another half-hour Paul went downstairs and drank a cup of tea,
then returned. Morel, dressed for the pit, came upstairs again.

"Am I to go?" he said.

"Yes."

And in a few minutes Paul heard his father's heavy steps go thudding
over the deadening snow. Miners called in the streets as they
tramped in gangs to work. The terrible, long-drawn breaths
continued--heave--heave--heave; then a long pause--then--ah-h-h-h-h!
as it came back. Far away over the snow sounded the hooters of the
ironworks. One after another they cro