Part 32 (1/2)

She looked up. Mercedes stood beside her. The old woman's eyes were very bright, her withered cheeks flushed.

”Will you help me carry him into the house?” Saxon asked.

Mercedes nodded, turned to a sergeant of police, and made the request to him. The sergeant gave a swift glance at Bert, and his eyes were bitter and ferocious as he refused.

”To h.e.l.l with'm. We'll care for our own.”

”Maybe you and I can do it,” Saxon said.

”Don't be a fool.” Mercedes was beckoning to Mrs. Olsen across the street. ”You go into the house, little mother that is to be. This is bad for you. We'll carry him in. Mrs. Olsen is coming, and we'll get Maggie Donahue.”

Saxon led the way into the back bedroom which Billy had insisted on furnis.h.i.+ng. As she opened the door, the carpet seemed to fly up into her face as with the force of a blow, for she remembered Bert had laid that carpet. And as the women placed him on the bed she recalled that it was Bert and she, between them, who had set the bed up one Sunday morning.

And then she felt very queer, and was surprised to see Mercedes regarding her with questioning, searching eyes. After that her queerness came on very fast, and she descended into the h.e.l.l of pain that is given to women alone to know. She was supported, half-carried, to the front bedroom. Many faces were about her--Mercedes, Mrs. Olsen, Maggie Donahue. It seemed she must ask Mrs. Olsen if she had saved little Emil from the street, but Mercedes cleared Mrs. Olsen out to look after Bert, and Maggie Donahue went to answer a knock at the front door. From the street came a loud hum of voices, punctuated by shouts and commands, and from time to time there was a clanging of the gongs of ambulances and patrol wagons. Then appeared the fat, comfortable face of Martha Shelton, and, later, Dr. Hentley came. Once, in a clear interval, through the thin wall Saxon heard the high opening notes of Mary's hysteria. And, another time, she heard Mary repeating over and over.

”I'll never go back to the laundry. Never. Never.”

CHAPTER X

Billy could never get over the shock, during that period, of Saxon's appearance. Morning after morning, and evening after evening when he came home from work, he would enter the room where she lay and fight a royal battle to hide his feelings and make a show of cheerfulness and geniality. She looked so small lying there so small and shrunken and weary, and yet so child-like in her smallness. Tenderly, as he sat beside her, he would take up her pale hand and stroke the slim, transparent arm, marveling at the smallness and delicacy of the bones.

One of her first questions, puzzling alike to Billy and Mary, was:

”Did they save little Emil Olsen?”

And when she told them how he had attacked, singlehanded, the whole twenty-four fighting men, Billy's face glowed with appreciation.

”The little cuss!” he said. ”That's the kind of a kid to be proud of.”

He halted awkwardly, and his very evident fear that he had hurt her touched Saxon. She put her hand out to his.

”Billy,” she began; then waited till Mary left the room.

”I never asked before--not that it matters... now. But I waited for you to tell me. Was it...?”

He shook his head.

”No; it was a girl. A perfect little girl. Only... it was too soon.”

She pressed his hand, and almost it was she that sympathized with him in his affliction.

”I never told you, Billy--you were so set on a boy; but I planned, just the same, if it was a girl, to call her Daisy. You remember, that was my mother's name.”

He nodded his approbation.

”Say, Saxon, you know I did want a boy like the very d.i.c.kens... well, I don't care now. I think I'm set just as hard on a girl, an', well, here's hopin' the next will be called... you wouldn't mind, would you?”

”What?”

”If we called it the same name, Daisy?”