I managed to climb up there, then I searched my way
through the dark among the piles of things, and hid in the secretest
place I could find. It was foolish to be afraid there, yet still I was;
so afraid that I held in and hardly even whimpered, though it would have
been such a comfort to whimper, because that eases the pain, you know.
But I could lick my leg, and that did some good.
For half an hour there was a commotion downstairs, and shoutings, and
rushing footsteps, and then there was quiet again. Quiet for some
minutes, and that was grateful to my spirit, for then my fears began to
go down; and fears are worse than pains--oh, much worse. Then came a
sound that froze me. They were calling me--calling me by name--hunting
for me!
It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it,
and it was the most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard. It went
all about, everywhere, down there: along the halls, through all the
rooms, in both stories, and in the basement and the cellar; then outside,
and farther and farther away--then back, and all about the house again,
and I thought it would never, never stop.
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