''What say,'' said the dark-haired nurse with a laugh, ''you jump on Betty? See who makes her creak.''
''See who makes her squeak!''
They looked at Betty''s bed. Betty had opened her eyes at the sound of her name—now she shut them and began to shake.
Nurse Spiller snorted. ''She''d squeak for Belinda,'' she said, ''every time. Don''t make it her, that ain''t fair. Make it old Miss Wilson.''
''She''d squeak all right!''
''Or, Mrs Price.''
''She''d cry! Crying''s no—''
''Make it Maud!''
One of them said it—I don''t know who—and, though they had all been laughing, now their laughter died. I think they looked at each other. Then Nurse Spiller spoke.
''Pass a chair,'' I heard her say, ''for standing on—''
''Wait! Wait!'' cried another nurse. ''What are you thinking of? You can''t jump on her, it''ll kill her.'' She paused, as if to wipe her mouth. ''Lie on her, instead.''
And at that, I put back the sheet from my face and opened my eyes up wide. Perhaps I shouldn''t have done it, just then. Perhaps, after all, they had only been larking. But I put back the sheet, and they saw me looking; and then they all started laughing again and came towards me in a rush. They plucked the blankets off me and took the pillow from under my head. Two of them leaned on my feet, and another two caught my arms. They did it in a moment. They were like one great hot sweating beast with fifty heads, with fifty panting mouths and a hundred hands. When I struggled, they pinched me. I said,