Lora Tiptoed across the bedroom stepping gingerly from one rug to another, avoiding the chilling touch of the hardwood floor. She fumbled in the closet and finally slipped her cold feet into sensible blue leather house-slippers. The heels clicked softly on the hall floor. She raised the window shade in the bathroom, and the half-light of the early morning added cheerless rays to the cold room. Lora gasped at the shock of cold water on her face, and her hands shook as she drew curlpins from her hair. She combed her hair hurriedly, and its electricity bristled about her shoulders as she drew on a blue flannel robe. It was not until she reached the basement stairs that she remembered.
"I didn't hear the trap click, last night. He probably never came near it. Silly -to have to set a trap for a mouse when you have a cat. Guess the cat's too well-fed to want a mouse. I certainly gave him plenty of chance to catch it. Hate to set a trap, for anything," she thought. She put off inspecting the trap and busied herself with coaxing the few still-glowing coals to give crackling life to the fuel she shoveled briskly into the furnace. Satisfied with her efforts at last, she stopped to wash her hands again at the basement faucet, then turned to the second basement room. "Hate to catch anything in a trap. Oh well, he probably never came near it."
Manuscripts: Vol. 10
, Article 6.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol10/iss2/6