It was little George, and he pulled at her skirts.
"Mummy, the horses are taking cold!" But Honoria still advanced.

"You _shall_ speak!" Joey, catching sight of her from the bed, screamed and hid his face.
To him she was a thing of horror.

From the night when, thrust beneath her eyes, he had cowered by her carriage-step, she had haunted his worst dreams.

And now, black-robed and terrible of face, she had come to lay hands on him and carry him straight to hell.
"Mother! Take her away! take her away!" His screams rang through the room.

"Hush, dear!" cried Lizzie, running to him; and laid a hand on his shoulder.
But the child, far too terrified to know whose hand it was, flung himself from her with a wilder scream than any; flung himself all but free of the bed-clothes.