Somebody began to pull and tear at the door and she yelled: "Help, can nobody help me?"

"But it's only me!" Exclaimed the voice.

Then she realized that it was her own grandmother. Her dear grandmother had come and she helped her take the mattress back to her bed. Then she tucked her up and sat with her the whole evening, white and pale but with a kind look in her old bloodshot eyes and a smile in the wrinkled corners of her mouth.


However, she still didn't feel safe. It felt unpleasant to have her grandmother by the bedside with her cold hand on her cheek. She liked her grandmother but everything was so uncanny and felt wrong. Perhaps it was because she was so silent or because the bedside lamp shone with such a pale green light.

Suddenly Linnea remembered with a shock that she had recently attended her grandmother's funeral.

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