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Douglas
was
staring
at
the
house
.
His
lips
moved
.
"
I
was
there
,
last
night
,
in
the
ravine
.
I
saw
Elizabeth
Ramsell
.
It
came
by
here
last
night
on
the
way
home
.
I
saw
the
lemonade
glass
there
on
the
rail
.
Just
last
night
it
was
.
I
could
drink
that
,
I
thought
.
.
.
I
could
drink
that
.
.
.
"
She
was
a
woman
with
a
broom
or
a
dustpan
or
a
washrag
or
a
mixing
spoon
in
her
hand
.
You
saw
her
cutting
piecrust
in
the
morning
,
humming
to
it
,
or
you
saw
her
setting
out
the
baked
pies
at
noon
or
taking
them
in
,
cool
,
at
dusk
.
She
rang
porcelain
cups
like
a
Swiss
bell
ringer
,
to
their
place
.
She
glided
through
the
halls
as
steadily
as
a
vacuum
machine
,
seeking
,
finding
,
and
setting
to
rights
.
She
made
mirrors
of
every
window
,
to
catch
the
sun
.
She
strolled
but
twice
through
any
garden
,
trowel
in
hand
,
and
the
flowers
raised
their
quivering
fires
upon
the
warm
air
in
her
wake
.
She
slept
quietly
and
turned
no
more
than
three
times
in
a
night
,
as
relaxed
as
a
white
glove
to
which
,
at
dawn
,
a
brisk
hand
will
return
.
Waking
,
she
touched
people
like
pictures
,
to
set
their
frames
straight
.
But
,
now
.
.
.
?
"
Grandma
,
"
said
everyone
.
"
Great
-
grandma
.
"
Now
it
was
as
if
a
huge
sum
in
arithmetic
were
finally
drawing
to
an
end
.
She
had
stuffed
turkeys
,
chickens
,
squabs
,
gentlemen
,
and
boys
.
She
had
washed
ceilings
,
walls
,
invalids
,
and
children
.
She
had
laid
linoleum
,
repaired
bicycles
,
wound
clocks
,
stoked
furnaces
,
swabbed
iodine
on
ten
thousand
grievous
wounds
.
Her
hands
had
flown
all
around
about
and
down
,
gentling
this
,
holding
that
,
throwing
baseballs
,
swinging
bright
croquet
mallets
,
seeding
black
earth
,
or
fixing
covers
over
dumplings
,
ragouts
,
and
children
wildly
strewn
by
slumber
.
She
had
pulled
down
shades
,
pinched
out
candles
,
turned
switches
,
and
—
grown
old
.
Looking
back
on
thirty
billions
of
things
started
,
carried
,
finished
and
done
,
it
all
summed
up
,
totaled
out
;
the
last
decimal
was
placed
,
the
final
zero
swung
slowly
into
line
.
Now
,
chalk
in
hand
,
she
stood
back
from
life
a
silent
hour
before
reaching
for
the
eraser
.
"
Let
me
see
now
,
"
said
Great
-
grandma
.
"
Let
me
see
.
.
.
"
With
no
fuss
or
further
ado
,
she
traveled
the
house
in
an
ever
-
circling
inventory
,
reached
the
stairs
at
last
,
and
,
making
no
special
announcement
,
she
took
herself
up
three
flights
to
her
room
where
,
silently
,
she
laid
herself
out
like
a
fossil
imprint
under
the
snowing
cool
sheets
of
her
bed
and
began
to
die
.
Again
the
voices
:
