Faint and clear the early lights of the village went out, leaving the valley empty and cold. A freight train whistled at the junction, and crept, with tolling bell, over the switches, to the south.
The sun, rising, poured its yellow light into Mrs. Grumble’s room, illuminating the bed, with its silent burden, and the still figure huddled in the chair. Slowly, and with difficulty, Mr. Jeminy got to his feet and crossed to the window. There his gaze encountered Mrs. Wicket, coming up the hill.
Blowing on his hands, Mr. Jeminy went to meet her in the early sunshine.
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