Part 17 (1/2)

”I saw a _beautiful_ b.u.t.terfly once!” she said. But the woman did not hear. She had pa.s.sed out of the shed--around the corner--and was looking after the chickens outside--her voice clucking to them lightly. The child moved toward the b.u.t.terfly, absorbed in s.h.i.+ning thought. ”It was a _beautiful_ b.u.t.terfly--” she said softly, ”in a Greek shop.” The wings of the b.u.t.terfly rose and circled vaguely and pa.s.sed behind her, and she wheeled about, peering up into the dark shed. She saw the yellow wings--up there--poise themselves, and wait a minute--and sail toward the light outside.... But she did not turn to follow its flight--Across the brown boards of the shed--behind a pile of lumber, against the wall up there--a head had lifted itself and was looking at her. She caught her breath--”I saw a b.u.t.terfly once!” she repeated dully. It was half a sob--The head laid a long, dark finger on its lip and sank from sight.... The child wheeled toward the open light--the woman was coming in, her hands filled with eggs. ”I must carry these in,” she said briskly. She looked at the child. ”You can stay and play a little while--if you want to. But you must not go away, you know.”

”I will not go away,” said the child, breathless.

So the woman turned and left her--and the child's eyes followed her.

x.x.xII

AND A VOICE

”Can you hear me, little Miss Harris?” The voice came from the dusky shed, high up against the wall.

But the child did not turn her head. ”Yes--Mr. Achilles--I can hear you very well,” she said softly.

”Don't look this way,” said the voice. ”Get down and look at the chickens--and listen to what I tell you.”

The child dropped obediently to her knees, her head a little bent, her face toward the open light outside.

The woman, going about her work in the kitchen, looked out and saw her and nodded to her kindly--

The child's lips made a little smile in return. They were very pale.

”I come to take you home,” said the voice. It was full of tenderness and Betty Harris bent her head, a great wave of homesickness sweeping across her.

”I can't go, Mr. Achilles.” It was like a sob. ”I can't go. They will kill you. I heard them. They will kill _anybody_--that comes--!” She spoke in swift little whispers--and waited. ”Can you hear me say it?”

she asked. ”Can you hear me say it, Mr. Achilles?”

”I hear it--yes.” The voice of Achilles laughed a little. ”They will not kill--little lady, and you go home--with me--to-night.” The voice dropped down from its high place and comforted her.

She reached out little hands to the chickens and laughed tremulously. ”I am afraid,” she said softly, ”I am afraid!”

But the low voice, up in the dusk, steadied her and gave her swift commands--and repeated them--till she crept from the dim shed into the light and stood up--blinking a little--and looked about her--and laughed happily.

And the woman came to the door and smiled at her. ”You must come in,”

she called.

”Yes--Mrs. Seabury--” The child darted back into the shed and gathered up the spoon and basin from the board and looked about her swiftly. In the slatted box, the mother hen clucked drowsily, and wise cheeps from beneath her wings answered bravely. The child glanced at the box, and up at the dusky boards of the shed, peering far in the dimness. But there was no one--not even a voice--just the high, tumbled pile of boards--and the few nests along the wall and the mother hen clucking cosily behind her slats--and the wise little cheeps.

x.x.xIII

”WAKE UP, MRS. SEABURY!”

The child lay with her hands clasped, breathing lightly. The sound of voices came drowsily from the kitchen... she must not go to sleep! She sat up and leaned toward the little window that looked out to the north.

Through the blackness the stars twinkled mistily, and she put her foot carefully over the edge of the bed and slipped down. The window was open--as far as the small sash allowed--and a warm, faint breeze came across the plain to her. She leaned against the sill, looking out. It was not far to the ground.... But she could see only vague blackness down there, and she looked again up to the twinkling stars.... They were little points of light up there, and she looked up trustfully while the warm wind blew against her. Her heart was beating very hard--and fast--but she was not afraid.... Mr. Achilles had said--not to be afraid--and he was waiting--down there in the blackness to take her home. She crept back to bed and lay down--very still. In the room below there was a sc.r.a.ping of chairs and louder words--and footsteps....

Someone had opened the door under her window and the smell of tobacco came up. Her little nose disdained it--and listened, alert. Footsteps went out into the night and moved a little away on the gravel and came back, and the door closed. She could hear the bolt click to its place and the footsteps shuffle along the hall. The voices below had ceased and the house was still--she was very sleepy now. But he had said--Mr.

Achilles had said.... She winked briskly and gave herself a little pinch under the clothes--and sat up. It was a sharp little pinch--through many thicknesses of clothes. Under the coa.r.s.e nightgown b.u.t.toned carefully to the throat, she was still wearing the red and green plaids and all her day clothes. Only the clumsy shoes, slipped off, stood by the bed, waiting for her. Her hand reached down to them cautiously, and felt them--and she lay down and closed her eyes. There was a step on the stairs--coming slowly. Betty Harris grew very still. If Mrs. Seabury came in and stood and looked at her... she must cry out--and throw her arms around her neck--and tell her _everything_! She could not hurt Mrs.

Seabury.... Mr. Achilles had said they would not hurt her. She had asked him that--three times, herself--and Mr. Achilles had said it--no one should hurt Mrs. Seabury--if Betty went away.... She held her breath....

The footsteps had come across the room--to her door--they waited there... then they moved on--and she drew a free breath. Her heart thumped to the vague movements that came and went in the next room--they pottered about a little, and finally ceased and a light, indrawn breath blew out the lamp--a hand was groping for the handle of her door--and opening it softly--and the bare feet moved away. The bed-springs in the next room creaked a little and everything was still. Betty Harris had a quick sense of pain. Mrs. Seabury was kind to her! She had been so kind that first day, when they brought her in out of the hot sun, and she had stumbled on the stairs and sobbed out--Mrs. Seabury had picked her up and carried her up the stairs and comforted her... and told her what it meant--these strange harsh men seizing her in the open suns.h.i.+ne, as they swept past--covering her mouth with hard hands and hurrying her out of the city to this stifling place. She loved Mrs. Seabury. Perhaps they would put her in prison... and _never_ let her out--and Mollie would not get well. The child gave a little, quick sob, in her thought, and lay very still. Mollie had been good once, and wicked men had hurt her...