sitting still.
She dumped the bedding half upon him. 'Aren't you cold?'
'Yeah,' he said.
'I can't sleep. No use.' She handed him a pillow and put the other on the floor to sit on, herself. 'Anything?'
'Nope,' he said. 'You hear the storm?'
'It woke me.'
'Too bad.'
She forgot to mention the funny little sound. His hand touched hers, and they arranged the blankets.
'Why, you're icy,' she said. 'What makes this house so cold?'
'Betcha somebody let the furnace go out,' he said sleepily. 'Feels like it.'
Alice's nostrils dilated.
'Fred'—she leaned closer and stared into his face—'you're dopey. What... ? Fred, don't you smell ... I'
'Smell what?'
'Coal gas,' she said. She jumped to her feet. In a moment, painfully, Fred unbent himself and stood up, too.
'Was I asleep?' he demanded.
'I don't know. Can't you smell it now?'
'Yeah, I smell it.'
'Oh, my God,' said Alice out loud. She flew to Innes' door.
The room was full of coal gas. The moment they opened the door it hit them and choked them. Fred blundered across the room to the windows. Alice flew to the bed. Innes was lying with his mouth open. He looked ghastly. She heard Fred kicking at the metal of the register in the floor.
'Pouring up from the furnace,' he shouted. 'Fan him.' Alice grabbed a pillow and fanned. Fred had every window open, on three sides of the room. Night air began to reach her, and she dared breathe.
Innes lay with his mouth open. She didn't dare touch him.
Fred said in her ear, 'I'm going down cellar. Keep fanning.'
'Call the doctor,' she choked. 'Right away.'
'O.K.'
She heard doors open. Isabel appeared in a long-sleeved flannel gown, with the kid glove still on that inanimate hand.
'What's the matter?'
'Coal gas.'
Gertrude's voice called distantly.
Alice thought frantically: His ribs are broken. You can't do artificial respiration. What can you do?
Somebody took the pillow out of her weakening hands and began to beat with it. It was Mr. Johnson, an apparition in his trousers and winter underwear.
Then Maud. 'What's that smell?' she roared. 'What's that smell?'
The rest of it was a nightmare, until the doctor came.
Alice leaned, shaking, against the window jamb and watched them mill aroimd. Maud, in blue satin with lace, was a terrible sight. Gertrude came in, neat and thin in a tan wool bathrobe. The Whitlock sisters braided their hair at night. Their old faces looked raddled and horrible under file girlish pigtails. Mr. Johnson's tremendous chest was as brown as his face. Josephine in pink, came timidly along. Her bosom sagged.
And Innes lay with his mouth open.
But he wasn't dead. Dr. Follett, fully clothed, came briskly in and told them so. He dispersed them. He sent Josephine to make coffee and make it strong. He sent Alice for a warmer garment for herself. He sent Mr. Johnson to the cellar to fix the furnace and get heat up, if possible. He sent the sisters nowhere, but they went. Maud stood before him in her blue and lace, as if daring him to look, but he didn't look. He went about his business, and she went away.
But Innes was alive.
It was four in the morning by the time the confusion was over, the room quiet, and Lmes able to smile at them weakly.
'If I were you,' the doctor said to Alice, 'I'd get to bed. And you too, young man.' Fred frowned. 'You needn't worry. I'll stay right here until eight o'clock. I want to watch him.'
Alice staggered off and fell on her bed. It was stripped and bare, but she didn't care. She had her coat on anyhow, and the doctor was here until eight o'clock. The responsibility was his until then. A load gone. Time to sigh and forget it. It didn't occur to her to wonder where, in the course of events, she had got that load, or why it belonged to her. It was enough to feel it gone. She could sleep. Someone came and put some blankets over her. She murmured gratefully.
Fred closed her door as softly as he could. He stood in the hall just outside, rubbing the back of his neck. Then
