"I ax thy pardon, Miss," she said, "but she says she wants thee. She says she wants thee to be a witness to summat." "I will not go," she replied. "I--I am going away. I--never saw any one before--in that condition." But the terrible voice raised itself again, and, despite her terror and anger, held and controlled her. "I see her!" it cried. "Mak' her coom in. I knowed her gran'feyther--when I wur a lass--seventy year ago!" "She will na harm thee," said Mrs. Briarley. And partly because of a dread fascination, and partly because the two women regarded her with such amazement, she found herself forced to give way and enter. It was a small room, and dark and low. The bed was a huge four-poster which had belonged to Granny Dixon herself in her young days. The large-flowered patterns of its chintz hangings were faded with many washings. Of the woman lying upon it there was little left but skin and bone. She seemed all eyes and voice--eyes which stared and shone in the gloom, and voice which broke upon the silence with an awesome power. "She's been speaking awmost i' a whisper till to-day," explained Mrs. Briarley, under her breath, "an' aw at onct th' change set in, an' it coom back as loud as ivver." She lifted her hands, beckoning with crooked fingers. "Coom tha here," she commanded. Rachel Ffrench went to her slowly. She had no color left, and all her _hauteur_ could not steady her voice. "What do you want?" she asked, standing close beside the bed. For a few seconds there was silence, in which the large eyes wandered from the border of her rich dress to the crown of her hair. Then Granny Dixon spoke out: "Wheer'st flower?" she cried. "Tha'st getten it on thee again. I con smell it." It was true that she wore it at her throat as she had done before. A panic of disgust took possession of her as she recollected it. It was as if they two were somehow bound together by it. She caught at it with tremulous fingers, and would have flung it away, but it fell from her uncertain clasp upon the bed, and she would not have touched it for worlds. "Gi' it to me!" commanded Granny Dixon. "Pick it up for her," she said, turning to Mrs. Briarley, and it was done, and the shrivelled fingers held it and the old eye devoured it. "He used to wear 'em i' his button-hole," proclaimed the Voice, "an' he wur a han'some chap--seventy year ago." "Did you send for me to tell me that?" demanded Rachel Ffrench. Granny Dixon turned on her pile of pillows. "Nay," she said, "an' I'm--forgettin'." There was a gasp between the two last words, as if suddenly her strength was failing her. "Get thee a pen--an'--an' write summat," she ordered. "Get it quickly," said Rachel Ffrench, "and let me humor her and go." She noticed the little gap between the words herself, and the next instant saw a faint gray pallor spread itself over the old woman's face. "Get the pen and paper," she repeated, "and call in the woman."