Part 10 (1/2)

She rang several times before the door was opened. At length an Irish woman with a shawl over her head and a baby in her arms appeared on the threshold, and glancing past her into the narrow pa.s.sage Ann Eliza saw that Mrs. Hochmuller's neat abode had deteriorated as much within as without.

At the mention of the name the woman stared. ”Mrs. who, did ye say?”

”Mrs. Hochmuller. This is surely her house?”

”No, it ain't neither,” said the woman turning away.

”Oh, but wait, please,” Ann Eliza entreated. ”I can't be mistaken. I mean the Mrs. Hochmuller who takes in was.h.i.+ng. I came out to see her last June.”

”Oh, the Dutch washerwoman is it--her that used to live here? She's been gone two months and more. It's Mike McNulty lives here now. Whisht!” to the baby, who had squared his mouth for a howl.

Ann Eliza's knees grew weak. ”Mrs. Hochmuller gone? But where has she gone? She must be somewhere round here. Can't you tell me?”

”Sure an' I can't,” said the woman. ”She wint away before iver we come.”

”Dalia Geoghegan, will ye bring the choild in out av the cowld?” cried an irate voice from within.

”Please wait--oh, please wait,” Ann Eliza insisted. ”You see I must find Mrs. Hochmuller.”

”Why don't ye go and look for her thin?” the woman returned, slamming the door in her face.

She stood motionless on the door-step, dazed by the immensity of her disappointment, till a burst of loud voices inside the house drove her down the path and out of the gate.

Even then she could not grasp what had happened, and pausing in the road she looked back at the house, half hoping that Mrs. Hochmuller's once detested face might appear at one of the grimy windows.

She was roused by an icy wind that seemed to spring up suddenly from the desolate scene, piercing her thin dress like gauze; and turning away she began to retrace her steps. She thought of enquiring for Mrs. Hochmuller at some of the neighbouring houses, but their look was so unfriendly that she walked on without making up her mind at which door to ring.

When she reached the horse-car terminus a car was just moving off toward Hoboken, and for nearly an hour she had to wait on the corner in the bitter wind. Her hands and feet were stiff with cold when the car at length loomed into sight again, and she thought of stopping somewhere on the way to the ferry for a cup of tea; but before the region of lunch-rooms was reached she had grown so sick and dizzy that the thought of food was repulsive. At length she found herself on the ferry-boat, in the soothing stuffiness of the crowded cabin; then came another interval of s.h.i.+vering on a street-corner, another long jolting journey in a ”cross-town” car that smelt of damp straw and tobacco; and lastly, in the cold spring dusk, she unlocked her door and groped her way through the shop to her fireless bedroom.

The next morning Mrs. Hawkins, dropping in to hear the result of the trip, found Ann Eliza sitting behind the counter wrapped in an old shawl.

”Why, Miss Bunner, you're sick! You must have fever--your face is just as red!”

”It's nothing. I guess I caught cold yesterday on the ferry-boat,” Ann Eliza acknowledged.

”And it's jest like a vault in here!” Mrs. Hawkins rebuked her. ”Let me feel your hand--it's burning. Now, Miss Bunner, you've got to go right to bed this very minute.”

”Oh, but I can't, Mrs. Hawkins.” Ann Eliza attempted a wan smile. ”You forget there ain't n.o.body but me to tend the store.”

”I guess you won't tend it long neither, if you ain't careful,” Mrs.

Hawkins grimly rejoined. Beneath her placid exterior she cherished a morbid pa.s.sion for disease and death, and the sight of Ann Eliza's suffering had roused her from her habitual indifference. ”There ain't so many folks comes to the store anyhow,” she went on with unconscious cruelty, ”and I'll go right up and see if Miss Mellins can't spare one of her girls.”

Ann Eliza, too weary to resist, allowed Mrs. Hawkins to put her to bed and make a cup of tea over the stove, while Miss Mellins, always good-naturedly responsive to any appeal for help, sent down the weak-eyed little girl to deal with hypothetical customers.

Ann Eliza, having so far abdicated her independence, sank into sudden apathy. As far as she could remember, it was the first time in her life that she had been taken care of instead of taking care, and there was a momentary relief in the surrender. She swallowed the tea like an obedient child, allowed a poultice to be applied to her aching chest and uttered no protest when a fire was kindled in the rarely used grate; but as Mrs. Hawkins bent over to ”settle” her pillows she raised herself on her elbow to whisper: ”Oh, Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Hochmuller warn't there.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks.

”She warn't there? Has she moved?”

”Over two months ago--and they don't know where she's gone. Oh what'll I do, Mrs. Hawkins?”

”There, there, Miss Bunner. You lay still and don't fret. I'll ask Mr.