He took the candle out of her hand:
"I have come to say, Granny . . . that there's nothing wrong with Uncle Gerrit. . . ."
She nodded her head wisely.
"Now you won't wait any longer for Mamma, Granny . . . and you'll go to bed, won't you? . . . Can I do anything more for you?"
She nodded her head:
"Yes," she said.
"What, Granny dear? Shall I hold the candle for you and will you go to bed then?"
"No, no. . . ."
"What do you want to do then, Granny dear?"
"Wait. . . ."
"Are you still waiting for Mamma?"
"Yes."
"But perhaps she won't come. . . ."
She nodded her head again.
He gently led her away from where she stood and up the stairs:
"So you are not going to bed yet?"
She shook her head.
"Are you still expecting Mamma?"
She nodded.
"Shall I light the gas, Grandmamma?"
She put her hand on his arm to prevent him:
"No, no," she said. "It's dark. There is no light."
"But won't you have the gas lit, Grandmamma?"
