'Certainly I think she was listening. Am I a dope? Are you?'
'I guess she must have been listening,' Alice said humbly. 'Now what?'
'It means a hard night tonight and no rest for the weary,' Fred said. 'Thaf s what it means. Like I said.'
10
They had an argument about mentioniag the incident to Innes. Fred said they ought not. Said it would scare the pants off him, and he was scared enough already. But Alice insisted that if a man was in special danger he had a right to know it. She said if Fred was really worried, then Innes must be told. Otherwise, she pointed out, it was taking too much responsibility.
'You don't like responsibility, do you?' grumbled Fred, giving up. 'All right, we tell him.'
'But not until tonight,' Alice compromised.
Through the long weary afternoon, Alice drowsed in a chair beside the big bed where Innes lay. Fred came in and spelled her about three o'clock, and she slept on her bed for an hour. Nothing happened. The whole world seemed to be waiting for Innes to heal or for night to fall. The house was quiet. The sisters were invisible. It was too quiet. They were too retiring. One felt one hadn't an eye on them.
Susan came while Alice napped. She didn't stay long.
Innes begged for company at dinnertime, and Alice thankfully ate from a tray in his room.
At about eight o'clock Gertrude rapped on the door. She came in with her somehow stately walk, steering herself a straight course across the room, avoiding furniture in her imcanny way.
'How are you feeling, Innes?'
'A little better.' Innes forced a confident note into his voice, though he shrank in bed.
''Are they taking care of you?'
'Yes, oh, yes. They wash my face and they feed me pills.' Innes was being brave and funny, but his fear blared like a trumpet to Alice's ears.
''rm sorry,' said Gertrude daintily, 'that there is so little I can do for you. But if there is anything, please let me know.'
'Of course. Of course, Gertrude.'
'Then good night.' She found the door herself. She made Alice think of a sailboat. Her progress went in geometrical designs, like tacking—as if she knew by memory how many paces to a fixed point and the angle there on which she must turn.
Innes swallowed, as if he gulped down the heart that had been in his throat, and he looked at Alice, but they said nothing.
Soon after Isabel came sidling in. Alice watched her eye. She seemed to be able to look at one straight with one eye while the other remained sly and shifty. Still, she wasn't cross-eyed. It was baffling and strange. It made Isabel elusive, not to be pinned down.
She said anxiously, 'Innes, my dear, are you comfortable?'
'I guess so,' said limes.
'Have you much pain?'
Alice Imew her anxiety was a habit. Isabel was always anxious about something. Just the same, she did seem more sympathetic than her sister Gertrude, whose precise good manners only made her more withdrawn and cold.
'The pain's not so bad,' Innes admitted.
'I suppose the doctor gives him something?'
'Yes,' said Alice.
'That's good,' said Isabel. 'I'm so glad you have no unnecessary pain.'
'I'll be all right,' said Innes. 'And I know it's a nuisance for you, Isabel . . .'
With her usual whine, Isabel said, 'After all, Innes, you are one of us.' She put her claw on his brow. 'AUce, dear, what a fine nurse you are. We are all so glad you're here.' One eye smiled frankly, but the other had a secret.
'Thank you. Miss Isabel,' said Alice. 'Good night.'
'Good night. Good night.'
It was Maud's turn.
'Well, Innes!' Her bedside maimer was a kind of raucous hilarity. 'You got everything, eh? Even the pretty nurse.' Innes started to say something, but Maud went right along. 'Nothing to do but take it easy. How's the bed? Soft, eh? Papa liked good springs. Best spring in the house.' She nudged the mattress with her knuckles.
'Don't, please.'
'What's the doctor doing for you, eh? What's he say?'
Innes waggled his eyebrows.
Alice said, 'Just rest'
'Eh?'
Innes tapped Maud's arm and acted it out. He folded his hands and closed his eyes.
