Explore "Transplanted" by Gertrude Atherton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was something over a week later that Lee awoke suddenly in the night and sat erect, with stiffened muscles. Her skin was chilled as if her sleeping body had been caught in a current of night air. A taper burned in a cup of oil. She glanced towards the door. It was closed. Her cot was in a corner, out of the reach of window draughts. Her shoulders approached each other. Something was certainly wrong, quite different from the usual routine of night. The taper faintly illumined the large room over which her expanding eyes roved. A red light flashed across the wall like a scythe, accompanied by the dull grumble of the cable car. Everything in the room was as she had arranged or left it for the night. Even the flannel petticoat Mrs. Tarleton had been embroidering for her daughter was on the table where she had dropped it. The needle stood up straight and focussed a beam of light. It was the same commonplace comfortable room, with whose every feature Lee was intimate; yet over these features to-night rested a thin film of something unfamiliar.
Lee gave way to unreasoning terror. "Memmy! " she called, "memmy!"