“I’ll see to the undertaker.”  She shivered again, and he added, “Don’t you know some older woman here?”

This reminded her of the dinner which Amy was to have given that night.  A lump rose in her throat.  She waited a moment and then she said: 

“Yes, I know of several.”

“That’s good.  You’d better send for them.”  And soon afterward he hurried away.

But just as Ethel was rising to go to the telephone, there was a ring at the door.  She opened it, and a tall man, rather stooped, with iron grey hair and moustache, a lean but rather heavy face and deep-set impassive eyes, came in and said: 

“I’m Joe’s partner—­Nourse, you know.  How is it going?  Better?”

“She’s dead.”

“God!” With that low exclamation, she thought she saw a gleam of shock but then of triumph come in his eyes.  He went into Joe’s room, and closed the door; and with a mingling of relief and of sharp hostility she felt at once how she was shut out.  Who was she but a stranger now?  She thought of Amy, and with a quick cry Ethel began to walk up and down in a scared hunted fashion.  She stopped with a sudden resolute clenching of her teeth, and said, “Now I’ve got to do something!  If I don’t, I’ll go right out of my mind!” But what?  She stared about her, then went to the windows and threw back the curtains.  It was well along toward noon.  Daylight flooded into the room, with one yellow path of light which came down from the distant sun.

“I’ll go out and get her some flowers.”

When she came back a half hour later, Ethel still had that resolute look.  The door of Joe’s room was still closed and she saw Nourse’s hat in the hall.  She turned and went to the telephone, stopped and frowned.

“Yes, that’s the next thing.”

She called up Amy’s friend Fanny Carr.  But at the sound of the woman’s voice which came back over the wire, Ethel gave a start of dismay.  For it had a jarring quality, and although it was prompt in its exclamations of shocked surprise and sympathy and proffers of help—­the words, “You poor child, I’ll come over at once!”—­made Ethel inwardly beseech her, “Oh, no, no!  Please stay away!” Aloud she said, “Thank you,” put up the receiver and stood staring at the wall.  Was this Amy’s best friend?

“I want some one I know!” She thought of Susette.  She went at once to the nursery, kissed the wee girl and sat down on the floor.  And as they built a house of blocks, Ethel could feel herself softening, the strained tight sensation going.  Suddenly in her hot dry eyes she felt in a moment the tears would come.

“What’s to become of me and this child?”

She turned with a start and met the unfriendly eyes of the nurse.  They had a jealous light in them.

“You’ll stay here, of course,” said Ethel.  “Surely you are not thinking of going—­”

“No.  Are you?”

A little cold sensation struck into her spine at the tone of that question.