D. H. Lawrence's 'Odour of Chrysanthemums'

Then she began to mount the stairs. They could hear her
on the boards, and on the plaster floor of the little bedroom.
They could hear her distinctly:

"What's the matter now? -- what's the matter with you,
silly thing?" -- her voice was much gentler than when she had
called from the foot of the stairs.

"I thought it was some men come," said the plaintive voice
of the child.

"They only brought your father home. There's nothing
to make a fuss about. Go to sleep now, like a good child."

They could imagine her smoothing the bedclothes over
the shoulders of the soothed children.

"Is he drunk?" the girl asked, timidly, faintly.

"No! Don't be a silly. He -- he's asleep."

"Is he asleep downstairs?"

"Yes . . . and don't wake him."

There was a silence for a moment, then the men heard the
frightened child again:

"What's that noise? Is it him asleep?"

"Yes! He's all right, what are you bothering for?"

The noise was the grandmother moaning. She was quite
oblivious of everything, sitting on her chair rocking and moaning.
The manager put his hand on her arm and bade her "Sh -- sh ! !"

The old woman opened her eyes and looked at him. She
was stung by this interruption, but she became quiet, very
pitiful and forlorn.

"What time is it?" -- the plaintive thin voice of the child,
reassured, sinking back to sleep, asked this last question.

"Ten o'clock," answered the mother softly. Then she
must have bent down and kissed them, and they heard the soft
level flight of her voice, but could not tell what she said.

Matthews beckoned the men to come away. They put on
their caps and took up the stretcher. Then, stepping over the

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