It was about a week after that that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.
"Come back, " he said tenderly. "You will be cold."
"It is colder for my son, " said the old woman, and wept afresh.
The sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.
"The paw!" she cried wildly. "The monkey' s paw!"
He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What' s the matter?"
She came stumbling across the room toward him. "I want it, " she said quietly. "You' ve not destroyed it?"
"It' s in the parlour, on the bracket, " he replied, marvelling. "Why?"
She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek.
"I only just thought of it, " she said hysterically. "Why didn' t I think of it before? Why didn' t you think of it?"
"Think of what?" he questioned.
"The other two wishes, " she replied rapidly. "We' ve only had one."
"Was not that enough?" he demanded fiercely.
"No, " she cried, triumphantly; "we' ll have one more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again."
The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs. "Good God, you are mad!" he cried aghast.
"Get it, " she panted; " get it quickly, and wish—Oh, my boy, my boy!"
Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. "Get back to bed, " he said, unsteadily. "You don' t know what you are saying."
"We had the first wish granted, " said the old woman, feverishly; "why not the second."