Chapter: In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried
their dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence.  It
was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and
remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen
--something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts
to bear.

But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation--the
hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy.  Sometimes
they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and
their days were long to weariness.

It was about a week after 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?"

"A coincidence," stammered the old man.

"Go and get it and wish," cried his wife, quivering with excitement.

The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook.  "He has been
dead ten days, and besides he--I would not tell you else, but--I could
only recognize him by his clothing.  If he was too terrible for you to
see then, how now?"

"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door.
"Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?"

He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then
to the mantelpiece.  The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear
that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he
could escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as
he found that he had lost the direction of the door.  His brow cold with
sweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall until
he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his
hand.

Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room.  It was white
and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it.
He was afraid of her.

"Wish!"  she cried, in a strong voice.

"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered.

"Wish!"  repeated his wife.

He raised his hand.  "I wish my son alive again."

The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully.  Then he
sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked
to the window and raised the blind.

He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the
figure of the old woman peering through the window.  The candle-end,
which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing
pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger
than the rest, it expired.  The old man, with an unspeakable sense of
relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a
minute or two afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically
beside him.

Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock.  A
stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall.
The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up
his courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, went
downstairs for a candle.

At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike
another; and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be
scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.

The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage.  He stood
motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated.  Then he
turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him.
A third knock sounded through the house.

"What's that?"  cried the old woman, starting up.

"A rat," said the old man in shaking tones--"a rat.  It passed me on the
stairs."

His wife sat up in bed listening.  A loud knock resounded through the
house.

"It's Herbert!"  she screamed.  "It's Herbert!"

She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by
the arm, held her tightly.

"What are you going to do?"  he whispered hoarsely.

"It's my boy; it's Herbert!"  she cried, struggling mechanically.
"I forgot it was two miles away.  What are you holding me for?  Let go.
I must open the door."

"For God's sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.

"You're afraid of your own son," she cried, struggling.  "Let me go.  I'm
coming, Herbert; I'm coming."

There was another knock, and another.  The old woman with a sudden wrench
broke free and ran from the room.  Her husband followed to the landing,
and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs.  He heard the
chain rattle back and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the
socket.  Then the old woman's voice, strained and panting.

"The bolt," she cried, loudly.  "Come down.  I can't reach it."

But her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in
search of the paw.  If he could only find it before the thing outside got
in.  A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he
heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage
against the door.  He heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly
back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, and frantically
breathed his third and last wish.

The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the
house.  He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened.  A cold wind
rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and
misery from his wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and then
to the gate beyond.  The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet
and deserted road.

 The Whites bury Herbert in a cemetery two miles from their house. Their home is now a dark and lonely place. The Whites feel like they are waiting for something to happen to help them with their sadness. One night, about a week later, Mrs. White remembers the monkey's paw. She wants Mr. White to wish Herbert back to life. Mr. White, who isn't sure whether Herbert's death has anything to do with the paw, is totally against this idea. But Mrs. White won't take no for an answer, so Mr. White, against his own judgment, wishes Herbert back to life. Nothing happens. They go back to bed. Mr. White is relieved. Herbert has been dead ten days and his body looked really horrible ten days ago. Mr. White has no desire to see the undead version of his son. After a while, the Whites hear someone - or something - banging on the front door. Mrs. White decides that it just took Herbert a little while to get home, because the graveyard where he was buried is two miles away. She runs downstairs to welcome home undead Herbert. Mr. White is scared. He wants nothing to do with undead Herbert. He quickly makes his third wish. The story doesn't say what this wish is, but the knocking stops just as Mrs. White gets the door open. When she steps outside, nobody there and the road is empty. She screams because Herbert isn't there. Mr. White goes outside and comforts her. Want to talk about the ending? Hurry over to "What's Up With the Ending?"

