Part 42 (1/2)

”Ma'am,” she said, ”those words won't hurt _her_. She don't know the language. But you've got G.o.d's daily bread in your hand; how can you talk devil's Dutch over it?”

The woman glared at her. But she saw nothing but strong, calm, earnest asking in the face; the asking of G.o.d's own pity.

She rebelled against that, sullenly; but she spoke no more foul words. I think she could as soon have spoken them in the face of Christ; for it was the Christ in Luclarion Grapp that looked out at her.

”You needn't preach. You can order me out of your shop, if you like.

I don't care.”

”I don't order you out. I'd rather you would come again. I don't think you will bring that street-muck with you, though.”

There was both confidence and command in the word like the ”Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.” It detached the street-muck from the woman. It was not _she_; it was defilement she had picked up, when perhaps she could not help it. She could sc.r.a.pe her shoes at the door, and come in clean.

”You know a darned lot about it, I suppose!” were the last words of defiance; softened down, however, you perceive, to that which can be printed.

Desire was pale, with a dry sob in her throat, when the woman had gone and Luclarion turned round.

”The angels in heaven know; why shouldn't you?” said Luclarion.

”That's what we've got to help.”

A child came in afterwards, alone; with an actual clean spot in the middle of her face, where a ginger-nut or an acid drop might go in.

This was a regular customer of a week past. The week had made that clean spot; with a few pleasant and encouraging hints from Luclarion, administered along with the gingerbread.

Now it was Hazel's turn.

The round mouth and eyes, with expectation in them, were like a spot of green to Hazel, feeling with her witch-wand for a human spring.

But she spoke to Desire, looking cunningly at the child.

”Let us go back and swing,” she said.

The girl's head p.r.i.c.ked itself up quickly.

”We've got a swing up-stairs,” said Hazel, pa.s.sing close by, and just pausing. ”A new one. I guess it goes pretty high; and it looks out of top windows. Wouldn't you like to come and see?”

The child lived down in a cellar.

”Take up some ginger-nuts, and eat them there,” said Luclarion to Hazel.

If it had not been for that, the girl would have hung back, afraid of losing her shop treat.

Hazel knew better than to hold out her hand, at this first essay; she would do that fast enough when the time came. She only walked on, through the sitting-room, to the stairs.

The girl peeped, and followed.

Clean stairs. She had never trodden such before. Everything was strange and clean here, as she had never seen anything before in all her life, except the sky and the white clouds overhead. Heaven be thanked that they are held over us, spotless, always!

Hazel heard the little feet, shuffling, in horrible, distorted shoes, after her, over the steps; pausing, coming slowly but still starting again, and coming on.

Up on the high landing, under the skylight, she opened the door wide into the dormer-windowed room, and went in; she and Desire, neither of them looking round.