Eloise put away her handkerchief and hoisted herself to a sitting position. "Gimme your foot," she said. "Sit down, first, please. . . .
Not there--here. God!"
On her knees, looking under the table for her cigarettes, Mary Jane said, "Hey. Guess what happened to Jimmy."
"No idea. Other foot. Other foot."
"He got runned over," said Mary Jane. "Isn't that tragic?"
"I saw Skipper with a bone," Ramona told Eloise.
"What happened to Jimmy?" Eloise said to her.
"He got runned over and killed. I saw Skipper with a bone, and he wouldn't--"
"Gimme your forehead a second," Eloise said. She reached out and felt Ramona's forehead. "You feel a little feverish. Go tell Grace you're to have your dinner upstairs. Then you're to go straight to bed. I'll be up later. Go on, now, please. Take these with you."
Ramona slowly giant-stepped her way out of the room.
"Throw me one," Eloise said to Mary Jane. "Let's have another drink."
Mary Jane carried a cigarette over to Eloise. "Isn't that something?
About Jimmy? What an imagination!"
"Mm. You go get the drinks, huh? And bring the bottle . . . I don't wanna go out there. The whole damn place smells like orange juice."
At five minutes past seven, the phone rang. Eloise got up from the window seat and felt in the dark for her shoes. She couldn't find them.
In her stocking feet, she walked steadily, almost languidly, toward the phone. The ringing didn't disturb Mary Jane, who was asleep on the couch, face down.
"Hello," Eloise said into the phone, without having turned the overhead light on. "Look, I can't meet you. Mary Jane's here. She's got her car parked right in front of me and she can't find the key. I can't get out. We spent about twenty minutes looking for it in the wuddayacallit--the snow and stuff. Maybe you can get a lift with Dick and Mildred." She listened. "Oh. Well, that's tough, kid. Why don't you boys form a platoon and march home? You can say that but-hopehoop-hoop business. You can be the big shot." She listened again. "I'm not funny," she said. "Really, I'm not. It's just my face." She hung up.
She walked, less steadily, back into the living room. At the window seat, she poured what was left in the bottle of Scotch into her glass.
It made about a finger. She drank it off, shivered, and sat down.
When Grace turned on the light in the dining room, Eloise jumped.
Without getting up, she called in to Grace, "You better not serve until eight, Grace. Mr. Wengler'll be a little late."
Grace appeared in the dining-room light but didn't come forward. "The lady go?" she said.
"She's resting."
"Oh," said Grace. "Miz Wengler, I wondered if it'd be all right if my husband passed the evenin' here. I got plentya room in my room, and he don't have to be back in New York till tomorrow mornin', and it's so bad out."
"Your husband? Where is he?"
"Well, right now," Grace said, "he's in the kitchen."
"Well, I'm afraid he can't spend the night here, Grace."
"Ma'am?"
"I say I'm afraid he can't spend the night here. I'm not running a hotel."
Grace stood for a moment, then said, "Yes, Ma'am," and went out to the kitchen.
Eloise left the living room and climbed the stairs, which were lighted very faintly by the overglow from the dining room. One of Ramona's galoshes was lying on the landing. Eloise picked it up and threw it, with as much force as possible, over the side of the banister; it struck the foyer floor with a violent thump.
She snapped on the light in Ramona's room and held on to the switch, as if for support. She stood still for a moment looking at Ramona. Then she let go of the light switch and went quickly over to the bed.
"Ramona. Wake up. Wake up."
Ramona was sleeping far over on one side of the bed, her right buttock off the edge. Her glasses were on a little Donald Duck night table, folded neatly and laid stems down.
"Ramona!"
The child awoke with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes opened wide, but she narrowed them almost at once. "Mommy?"
"I thought you told me Jimmy Jimmereeno was run over and killed."
"What?"
"You heard me," Eloise said. "Why are you sleeping way over here?"
"Because," said Ramona.
"Because why? Ramona, I don't feel like--"
"Because I don't want to hurt Mickey."
"Who?"
"Mickey," said Ramona, rubbing her nose. "Mickey Mickeranno."
Eloise raised her voice to a shriek. "You get in the center of that bed. Go on."
Ramona, extremely frightened, just looked up at Eloise.
"All right." Eloise grabbed Ramona's ankles and half lifted and half pulled her over to the middle of the bed. Ramona neither struggled nor cried; she let herself be moved without actually submitting to it.
"Now go to sleep," Eloise said, breathing heavily. "Close your eyes.... You heard me, close them."
Ramona closed her eyes.
