As the woman went about her work, she listened, and stopped and went to the door—for some sound from upstairs. Presently she went up and opened the door... and looked in.
The child lay with one hand thrown above her head—a drawn3 look in the softly arched brow and half-parted lips. The woman bent4 over her, listening—and placed her hand on the small wrist and counted—waiting. The eyes flashed open—and looked at her. “I thought you were Nono,” said the child. A wistful look filled her face and her lip quivered a little—out of it—and steadied itself. “You are Mrs. Seabury,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” said the woman cheerfully. “Time to get up, dearie.” She turned away and busied herself with the clothes hanging from their hooks.
The child’s eyes followed her—dully. “I don’t think I care to get up,” she said at last.
The woman brought the clothes and placed them by the bed, and smiled down at her. “There’s something nice to-day,” she said casually5. “We’re going outdoors to-day—”
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