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The conversation was carried on in brief and broken phrases. The man and the woman sat close together shivering over the fire. There were no curtains to the windows, and the fog had crept through the sashes into the room. Kate coughed from time to time a sharp, hacking cough and Ralph's wheezing grew thicker in sound. 'I'm a-fraid I shall have a b-bad night, this dre-ad-ful weather.
When Polly first heard it, by Phronsie's pattering downstairs and screaming: "Oh, Polly, Joey's dre-ad-ful sick, he is!" she jumped right up, and tore off the bandage. "Now, I will help mother! I will, so there!" and in another minute she would have been up in the sick room.
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