Her tone was queer and constrained; even her father noticed it.

"She is asleep now; come and look at her; you may wake her if you can."

"No, no, gel; let me get off--Jim Targent will get my berth unless I
look sharp. Let me be, Bet--your mother can sleep her fill this
morning,"

"Come and look at her, father; come--you must."

She took his hand--she was very strong--stronger than him at that
moment, for his legs were not steady, and even now he was scarcely
sober.

"I don't want to see an old 'ooman asleep," he muttered, but he let
the strong hand lead him forward. Bet pushed back the screen, and drew
him close to the bed.

"Wake her if you can," she said, and her eyes blazed into his.

Granger looked. There was no mistaking what he saw.

"My God!" he murmured. "Bet, you shouldn't have done it--you shouldn't
have broke it to me like this!"

He trembled all over.

"Martha dead! Let me get away. I _hate_ dead people."

"Put your hand on her forehead, father. See, she couldn't have got