Sleep in Peace Read Free Page B

through the intervals with nervous apprehension. The gusts grew wilder, more clamorous and more frequent; with a loud protesting click the bedroom door flew open, and a cold air edged its way across to the bed. Mrs. Armistead, shivering, drew the coverlet closer about the sleeping infant. Now the wind deepened its voice to a menacing roar; it shouted with rage and buffeted the house so that it shook. The bedroom door banged, and not latching, banged and banged again; cold airs swept viciously about the room. The noise within and without was deafening. Oh, this was terrible! thought Mrs. Armistead, suddenly abandoning all pretence of not being frightened by the wind. Where was the nurseg? She stretched out a weak hand and fumbled for the bell-rope.
    All at once the row of cottage roofs crumpled, folded upon themselves and rose into the air.
    â€œAlfred, Alfred!” screamed Mrs. Armistead wildly, starting up.
    The next moment the gust struck Blackshaw House; with a roar like thunder the chimney above her head plunged into the room. The fire flew out upon the carpet, followed by a rumbling avalanche of bricks and stones; the flames, driven by the wind above, caught the linen bedsides, scorched the sheets. The room was filled with the acrid stench of soot and smoke.
    â€œAlfred!” screamed Mrs. Armistead again, her face blanched with terror. “Alfred!”
    She snatched up her child, flung back the bedclothes, and with a convulsive effort half-threw, half-dragged her fainting body to the ground. Hardly able to stand, she staggered towards the door, stretching towards it a trembling and icy hand. Mercifully it had not latched; she tottered out to the cold bright safety of the landing.
    The crash of falling masonry resounded through the house; all in it sprang to their feet in frightened question. The first to move was the monthly nurse, who with a face of concern ran through the kitchen, rolling down her sleeves with her still dripping hands. After a stunned pause Cook and Mildred ran out after her, jostling each other in the doorway. Ludo followed as fast as he could, but his short legs made slow work of the steep stone cellar steps, and by the time he had reached high enough to see the first storey landing through the wooden banisters, the nurse was supporting Mrs. Armistead in her arms, with all the others grouped about her in stricken attitudes. At the sight of his mother, barefoot, with no wrap over her nightdress, her face contorted in the extreme of fright, Ludo felt the blood curdle in his veins. He stood still, three steps below the landing level, and gazed up in silent horror.
    From a frozen stillness the scene suddenly passed into violent action. Mildred and Ada began to rush between bedroom andbathroom with jugs of water; Cook flew down the stairs, almost knocking Ludo from his feet, in search of brandy. Grandmamma and Gwen retreated into the nursery, towards which the nurse urged Mrs. Armistead with encouraging words. Ludo, hardly able to make his legs obey him, moved slowly into the nursery and crept to his mother’s side. She lay back in a chair by the hearth, scarcely breathing; the nurse knelt beside her, chafing her hands. Ludo timidly touched one of the nurse’s starched apron strings.
    â€œGo away, child,” she exclaimed impatiently, pushing him away without looking at him. “You mustn’t worry your mother now.”
    Ludo cleared his throat. “It’s upside down,” he whispered, timid but determined, pulling again at her strings. “Nurse! It’s upside down.”
    â€œLord save us!” cried the nurse. “The baby!”
    She hastily snatched the newborn infant from Mrs. Armistead’s convulsive grasp and reversed it, for Ludo was right, the distracted mother had been carrying it upside down. The child’s head was congested, purple; it moved its arms faintly, in obvious distress. The nurse’s face expressed a fearful question as she