t; 'quick, quick, quick!'

"I heard Mrs. Bird tell Mrs. Dennison: 'Come quick, Amelia, something
is the matter in Miss Arms' room.' It struck me even then that she
expressed herself rather queerly, and it struck me as very queer,
indeed, when they both got upstairs and I saw that they knew what had
happened, or that they knew of what nature the happening was.

"'What is it, dear?' asked Mrs. Bird, and her pretty, loving voice had
a strained sound. I saw her look at Mrs. Dennison and I saw Mrs.
Dennison look back at her.

"'For God's sake,' says I, and I never spoke so before--'for God's
sake, what was it brought my coat upstairs?'

"'What was it like?' asked Mrs. Dennison in a sort of failing voice,
and she looked at her sister again and her sister looked back at her.

"'It was a child I have never seen here before. It looked like a
child,' says I, 'but I never saw a child so dreadful, and it had on a
nightgown, and said she couldn't find her mother. Who was it? What was
it?'

"I thought for a minute Mrs. Dennison was going to faint, but Mrs. Bird
hung onto her and rubbed her hands, and whispered in her ear (she had
the cooingest kind of voice), and I ran and got her a glass of cold
water. I tell you it took considerable courage to go downstairs alone,
but they had set a lamp on the entry table so I could see. I don't
believe I could have spunked up enough to have gone downstairs in the
dark, thinking every second that child might be close to me. The lamp
and the smell of the biscuits baking seemed to sort of keep my courage
up, but I tell you I didn't waste much time going down those stairs and
out into the kitchen for a glass of water. I pumped as if the house
was afire, and I grabbed the first thing I came across in the shape of
a tumbler: it was a painted one that Mrs. Dennison's Sunday school
class gave her, and it was meant for a flower vase.

"Well, I filled it and then ran upstairs. I felt every minute as if
something would catch my feet, and I held the glass to Mrs. Dennison's
lips, while Mrs. Bird held her head up, and she took a good long
swallow, then she looked hard at the tumbler.

"'Yes,' says I, 'I know I got this one, but I took the first I came
across, and it isn't hurt a mite.'

"'Don't get the painted flowers wet,' says Mrs. Dennison very feebly,
'they'll wash off if you do.'

"'I'll be real careful,' says I. I knew she set a sight by that
painted tumbler.

"The water seemed t