Somehow, on this dreadful day, anything seemed possible, certainly anything that was terrible, and she remembered suddenly that the spare bedroom was the very hottest room in the house.

It was over the kitchen, and caught every possible gleam of sunshine from morning till evening.

Also she knew Betty's thoroughness only too well, and her mind's eye saw poor little Tony buried deep and tucked in completely, head and all.
The whole house was stiflingly hot.

Kitty's own face grew crimson with her race upstairs, and when she opened the door of the spare bedroom the heat positively poured out; but a terrible load was lifted from her mind, for, mercifully, Tony's head was uncovered.

He was the colour of a crimson peony, it is true, but at any rate he was not suffocated, unless--Kitty stepped quickly forward and touched his cheek.