PEGGY OVERHEARS A STARTLING CONVERSATION
One cold morning in January Paddy built up a good fire, and, putting
Peggy in her wheel chair, he placed everything in reach that she could
possibly need.
"I'll not be back before dark, dearie," he said, "for outside of my
convent work I have a job at the wharf that will keep me all the day."
With this he kissed her on each pale cheek and on her sweet, patient
mouth, and left.
The little cottage in which the Paddys lived, you will remember, was on
the far side of the common. Behind it ran an alley where all sorts of
people lived,--negroes, beggars, tramps, all of them poor and some of
them desperate.
Peggy's cottage was at one end of the row, and the convent wall was
built up close to the side of it, leaving a space just wide enough for
one person to squeeze through. The walls of the cottage were so thin
that whenever the children hid in the narrow passage during their play,
the sick woman inside could hear every word they said--could almost hear
them breathe.
On the morning in question Peggy was sitting by her fire knitting so
fast that you could not tell needles from fingers nor fingers from
needles, when she heard the sound of talking between the cottage and
the convent wall. She could tell that the speakers were men.
"Now, why have they crept in that narrow crack to talk?" she mused.
A low voice said:
"Are you sure she'll not go back on us?"
Another answered:
"She's safe enough; I've fixed her."
"Listen to me," said the first voice; "you are to bring a bundle to the
side door at five o'clock. The nurse will let you in, and show you the
closet under the staircase. There you'll stay until the house is locked
up and everything settled for the night. After the children are asleep
and the grown people quieted by the drugged coffee--say when the
convent bell strikes ten--you will slip out and, unlocking the side
door, let me in. I have a plan of the house, and know where everything
of value is kept. We'll get a good, rich pull, and skip."
"You're certain no harm will come from spiking the drink?"
"Not if she obeys orders; it'll give 'em a bully night's rest; that's
all."
"How'll I know when it's safe to come out?"
"She says if anything happens not down on the books she'll come past
your hiding-place, and give two taps like this" (tapping). "In that
case you'll wait till you hear further."
"You'll be there to help, if I get caught? You won't slump?"
"Me? Never! Ain't I always been a man of honour?"
"They say old Morton's mighty game when once roused."
"But he won't be if we can help it; in case he is, and shows fight, why
then we'll have to----"
The rest of the sentence was lost, and the two men departed.
Poor Mrs. Peggy sat frozen to her chair in terror. What on earth could
she do! Her husband was gone for the day. There was no chance for his
return before six o'clock at least.
"Poor, useless body!" she exclaimed, "the neighbours' property in
danger, their very lives threatened, a traitor in their midst, and me
sitting here knowing it all, and not able to do anything!"
She was so distressed at her helplessness that tears rolled down her
thin cheeks. But soon she dried them and said, emphatically:
"There's no avoiding it; I must get word to Mrs. Morton!"
She thought harder than she had ever done before in all her life; then,
as if answering objections, she said aloud:
"If I can't get anybody to go for me, I will go myself."
She, poor soul, who had never moved unaided for five long years, except
to turn the wheels of her chair for a few yards in her little narrow
room!
She rolled herself away from the fire toward the door. With a little
difficulty she opened it, and peered out. Although she was warmly clad,
the rush of cold air made her shiver, but she wrapped one of her shawls
around her head and watched.
No one passed. Twelve o'clock struck. In a few hours it would be too
late.
[Illustration]
She sighed heavily. "Would it be possible for me to wheel myself over
the common and across the street? Could I ever reach that great house
alive?"
She did not think the Mortons' nurse knew her, though she remembered the
woman distinctly.
Then a new difficulty occurred to her. "Even if I succeed in making the
journey, can I get private speech with the right persons?"
She hesitated, then she added, bravely:
"Shame on me to think of giving up!" and throwing the door wide open,
with a mighty effort she pushed her chair over the sill.
It rolled down with a bump and on for a few feet until it was stopped by
a sharp stone.
It was only several inches from the door to the ground, nevertheless,
the jar gave her so much pain that she nearly fainted. She lay still for
some moments, more dead than alive.
"I must go! I have cut off all way of return now. Bumping down that step
was one thing; getting back would be impossible."
But when she tried to go on, her weakness was so great that she could
not make any progress. Her chair, wedged against the stone, was
immovable.
"O God," she prayed, "I don't know what to do now--help me!"