Elvira Gordon had gone home hoping that Lot might yet speak.

She had heard his rattling cough as she picked her way out of the icy yard, and Madelon also heard it when she entered it.

She knocked at the side door, and Margaret Bean opened it.

She had a gruel cup in her hand.
"I want to see him," said Madelon.
Margaret Bean looked at her.

Her starched calico apron flared out widely over her lank knees across the doorway.
"I'm afraid he ain't able to see nobody this morning," said she, and the asperity in her tone was less veiled than usual.