She turned on the gas, which roared a little and then subsided into a sullen yellow flame. The shade belonging to the gas jet had been broken that morning by Nesta in a game of romps with her two sisters. "How hot it is," said Nesta presently. No one took any notice of her remark, and after a time Ethel spoke. "I ought to tell you," she said. Molly turned her haggard face. "What?" she asked. "If it is anything awful, I shall scream." "You won't--so there!" "What do you mean? How can you prevent me?" "I saw," said Ethel, and she gulped down a sob in her throat--"I saw Dr Anstruther, and he said we were to forget ourselves--to obliterate ourselves--that was the word he used--to keep ourselves out of sight. We might be wanted, or we might not. We're of no account--no account at all--that was the kind of thing he said, and I'm not a bit surprised." "Nor am I," said Nesta; "we're beasts. I wish we could be killed. I wish we could be buried alive. I wish--I wish--anything but what has happened." Molly went and stood by the window. "I'm the worst of you," she said after a pause. "No, you're not," said Nesta--"I'm the worst. Nothing would have happened at all if I hadn't run away in that mean, horrid, detestable fashion. I thought it was such a joke. You both really did think you had a day off, and it was my turn to be with her--with her. Why, I'd give my two hands to be with her now." Nesta held out her two plump little hands as she spoke. "The doctor may cut them off; he may chop me in bits--he may do anything if only I might be with her." "Well, you cannot," said Ethel; "you're no more to her now than the rest of us. What you say is quite right; you did do worse." "No, don't say that," interrupted Molly, "I was the worst. I saw the attack begin, and I knew it, for I have seen it before. But I shut it out of my mind; there was a door in my mind, and I shut it firm and locked it, and forced myself to forget, and when she was lying there so white and panting for breath, I just put a shawl over her, and said, you will have such a nice sleep, and I went away back to my fun--my fun! Fancy my eating strawberries and cream, and mother--mother so ill. Fancy it! Think of it?" "I don't want to think of it," said Ethel. "I wish we could have something to make us go into a dead sleep. I want this night to go by. I don't think that Marcia should have all her own way." Then she remembered the doctor's words. "I wish I might dare to open the door very softly," said Nesta, "and just creep, creep upstairs and watch outside. I wish I might. Do you think I might?" "I don't see why you shouldn't," said Ethel, with a momentary gleam of hope. "You can walk just like a cat when you please. No one ever was as good going down creaking stairs as you when you want to steal things from the pantry. You may as well make yourself useful as not. Go along and report; tell us if all is quiet."