Now turn and shut your eyes," she murmured, "and shut your eyes." The lodging-house seemed full of gurgling and rushing; the cistern overflowing; water bubbling and squeaking and running along the pipes and streaming down the windows.
"What's all that water rushing in ?" murmured Archer.
"It's only the bath water running away," said Mrs.Flanders.
Something snapped out of doors.
"I say, won't that steamer sink ?" said Archer, opening his eyes.
"Of course it won't," said Mrs.Flanders.

"The Captain's in bed long ago.

Shut your eyes, and think of the fairies, fast asleep, under the flowers." "I thought he'd never get off--such a hurricane," she whispered to Rebecca, who was bending over a spirit-lamp in the small room next door.
The wind rushed outside, but the small flame of the spirit-lamp burnt quietly, shaded from the cot by a book stood on edge.
"Did he take his bottle well ?" Mrs.Flanders whispered, and Rebecca nodded and went to the cot and turned down the quilt, and Mrs.Flanders bent over and looked anxiously at the baby, asleep, but frowning.

The window shook, and Rebecca stole like a cat and wedged it.
The two women murmured over the spirit-lamp, plotting the eternal conspiracy of hush and clean bottles while the wind raged and gave a sudden wrench at the cheap fastenings.
Both looked round at the cot.

Their lips were pursed.