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She was glad at least that her father was not at home. That was one less to look at her. "Well, get along to bed with you!" said her mother, in answer to her impatient explanation. "And, you children keep still! Don't bother her!" Sylvia crept upstairs into the whiteness of her own slant-ceilinged room, and without lighting a lamp sat down on the bed. Her knees shook under her.
This passed and left her, looking straight before her at the flickering shadows, leaping among the dusky corners of the dark slant-ceilinged room. The old clock struck three in the hall behind her. She felt tired now, as she had after the other travail which had given her her children, and leaned her head on her hand. Where did she herself, her own personal self come in, with all this?
"I'll take her up to bed now and finish my cake afterward." She tugged the baby out of the high chair that was becoming too close a fit and toiled with her up the narrow stairs that led from the entry. The little sisters slept together in a slant-ceilinged bedroom.
It was Cousin Ann, who carried her as lightly as though she were a baby, and who said, as she sat down on the floor in a slant-ceilinged bedroom, "You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you're pretty tired." Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four posts, and a curtain around the top.
He himself turned away and walked slowly towards the open door. Sylvia noticed that he shuffled his feet as he walked. Judith drew Sylvia away up the stairs to her own slant-ceilinged room, and the two sat down on the bed, side by side, with clasped hands. Judith now told briefly the outline of what had happened.
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