Part 15 (1/2)

They followed him into the house, stopping in an entry to wash their hands and remove their heavy shoes. Through the door opening to a room beyond, a woman could be seen, moving briskly, and the smell of cooking floated out. They sniffed at it hungrily.

The woman came to the door. ”Hurry up, boys--everything's done to death!”

They came in hastily, with half-dried hands, and she looked at them--a laugh in her round, keen face. ”You _have_ had a day!” she said. She was tall and angular, and her face had a sudden roundness--a kind of motherly, Dutch doll, set on its high, lean frame. Her body moved in soft jerks.

She heaped up the plates with quick hands, and watched the men while they ate. For a time no one spoke. The old man went to the cellar and brought up a great mug of beer, and they filled their pipes and sat smoking and sipping the beer stolidly. The windows were open to the air and the shades were up. Any one pa.s.sing on the long road, over the plain, might look in on them. The woman toasted a piece of bread and moistened it with a little milk and put it, with a gla.s.s of milk, on a small tray. The men's eyes followed her, indifferent. They watched her lift the tray and carry it to a door at the back of the room, and disappear.

They smoked on in silence.

The old man reached out for his gla.s.s. He lifted it. ”Two weeks--and three more days,” he said. He sipped the beer slowly.

The larger of the two men nodded. He had dark, regular features and reddish hair. He looked heavy and tired. He opened his lips vaguely.

”Don't talk here!” said the younger man sharply--and he gave a quick glance at the room--as a weasel returns to cover, in a narrow place.

The big man smiled. ”I wa'n't going to say anything.”

”Better not!” said the other. He cleared his pipe with his little finger. ”_I_ don't even think,” he added softly.

The woman had come back with the tray and the men looked up, smoking.

She set the tray down by the sink and came over to them, standing with both hands on her high hips. She regarded them gravely and glanced at the tray. The milk and toast were untouched.

The old man removed his pipe and looked at her plaintively. ”Can't ye _make_ her, Lena?” he said. His high voice had a shrill note.

She shook her head. ”_I_ can't do anything--not anything more.”

She moved away and began to gather up the dishes from the table, clearing it with swift jerks. She paused a moment and leaned over--the platter in her hand half-lifted from its place. ”She needs the air,” she said, ”and to run about--she's sick--shut up like that!” She lifted the platter and carried it to the sink, a troubled look in her eyes. ”I won't be responsible for her--not much longer,” she said slowly, as she set it down, ”not if she doesn't get down in the air.”

The men looked at each other in silence. The old man got up. ”Time to go to bed--” he said slowly.

They filed out of the room. The woman's eyes followed them. Presently the door opened and the younger man returned, with soft, quick steps. He looked at her. ”I want to talk,” he said.

”In a minute,” she replied. She nodded toward the cellar. ”The lantern's down there--you go along.”

He opened the door and stepped cautiously into blackness, and she heard a quick, scratching match on the plaster behind the closed door, and his feet descending the stairs.

She drew forward the kettle on the stove and replenished the fire, and blew out the hand lamp on the table. Then she groped her way to the cellar door, opening it with noiseless touch.

The young man waited below, impatient. On a huge barrel near by, the lantern cast a yellow circle on the blackness.

The woman approached it, her high-stepping figure flung in shadowy movement along the wall behind her.

”You can't back out _now_!” He spoke quickly. ”You're weakening! And you've got to brace up--do you hear?”

The woman's round face smiled--over the light on the barrel. ”_I'm_ all right,” she said. She hesitated a minute.... ”It's the child that's not all right,” she added slowly. ”And tonight I got scared--yes--” She waited a breath.

”What's the matter?” he said roughly.