And her mother’s: “Just a minute and I’ll be all right.”
And a silence.
And then Aunt Hannah’s voice coldly tender:-and her mother’s:— In intense quietness, Catherine stole through the open door opposite Aunt Hannah’s door, and hid herself beneath her grandparents’bed. She was no longer crying. She only wanted never to be seen by anybody again. She lay on her side and stared down into the grim grain of the carpet. When Aunt Hannah’s door opened she felt such terror that she gasped, and drew her knees up tight against her chest. When the voices began calling her, downstairs, she made herself even smaller, and when she heard their feet on the stairs and the rising concern in their voices she began to tremble all over. But by the time she heard them along the hallway she was out from under the bed and sitting on its edge, her back to them as they came in, her heart knocking her breath to pieces.
“Why there you are,” her mother cried, and turning, Catherine was frightened by the fright and the tears on her face. “Didn’t you hear us?”
She shook her head, no.
“Why how could you help but-were you asleep?”
She nodded, yes.
“I thought she was with you, Amelia.”
“I thought she was with you or Mama.”
“Why, where on earth were you, darling? Heavens and earth, have you been all alone?”
Catherine nodded yes; her lower lip thrust out farther and farther and she felt her chin trembling and hated everybody.
“Why, bless your little heart, come to Mother”; her mother came toward her stooping with her arms stretched out and Catherine ran to her as fast as she could run, and plunged her head into her, and cried as if she were made
