Charlotte thought she heard a noise from the children's room, and went in to see if they were all right. There they lay, safe, relaxed, silky lashes lying on moist pink cheeks, so near to her, so unreachably far away. The babies were growing up. The sorrow of birth that leads to death flooded her, though she had no words for it.
"All right, honey?"
"Hoagland Driggs, you scared me to death! Why aren't you asleep?"
He couldn't say, "Because I was thinking of Opal Mendoza." He asked her:
"Why aren't you?"
"I don't know. I got to feeling sort of blue"
"Why, everything's all right, Charlotte. Isn't it?"
"Oh, I guess so."
"Maybe you ate something," he suggested, sympathetically and anxiously.
"Maybe. Aunt Kate always has things so nice. Or maybe it was the coffee." She laid his hand against her cheek for a moment, gently. "Well"
Carrie turned from side to side. If only she could get to sleep. But it was so stuffy. She crept to a window and raised it a little way, waking Aunt Sarah.
"Carrie! Put that window down! It blows right on me."
Carrie shut out the spring and went back to bed, crying a little and wondering whether she could fix
