There was no sound of breathing. She pulled down
the bed-clothes and placed her hand upon her heart. It was still. Mrs.
Putnam had gone to meet the boy she had loved and lost.
Feeling her way along the wall, she reached the door. Flinging it wide
open, she cried, "Samantha! Lindy!"
Samanthy came to the foot of the stairs.
"What is it, Miss Pettengill?" asked she.
"She's dead," said Alice, and she sank down upon the stairway.
Samanthy ran quickly upstairs. She went first to Miss Lindy's room and
told her that all was over; then she came back, went into Mrs. Putnam's
room, pulled down the curtains, went to the bed and laid the sheet over
Mrs. Putnam's face. She looked at the fire to see that it was safe, came
out and closed the door. Then she helped Alice down stairs, led her into
the parlor and seated her in an easy-chair.
"I'll bring you a nice cup of hot tea," said she; "I've just made some
for dinner."
Lindy came down stairs and went to the front door. Hiram was there,
smoking a cigar, and beating his arms to keep warm. He had been waiting
outside for a couple of hours, and he was nearly frozen.
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