“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 scraping 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 coarse nightgown buttoned 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 sunshine, 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...
and now her mother could not help her.... But Mr. Achilles said--yes--he
said it--no one should hurt her.... And with the thought of the Greek
she lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night.... There
was a long, light call somewhere across the plain, a train of heavy
Pullmans pushing through the night--the sound came to the child like a
whiff of breath, and passed away... and the crickets chirped--high and
shrill. In the next room, the breathing grew loud, and louder, in long,
even beats. Mrs. Seabury was asleep! Betty Harris sat up in bed, her
little hands clinched fast at her side. Then she lay down again--and
waited... and the breathing in the next room grew loud, and regular,
and full.... Mrs. Seabury was very tired! And Betty Harris listened,
and slipped down from the bed, and groped for her shoes--and lifted them
like a breath--and stepped high across the floor, in the dim room. It
was a slow flight... tuned to the long-drawn, falling breath of the
sleeper--that did not break by a note--not even when the brown hand
released the latch and a little, sharp click fell on the air.... “Wake
up, Mrs. Seabury! Wake up--for Mollie’s sake--wake up!” the latch said.
But the sleeper did not stir--only the long, regular, dream-filled,
droning sleep. And the child crept down the stair--across the kitchen
and reached the other door. She was not afraid now--one more door! The
men would not hear her--they were asleep--Mrs. Seabury was asleep--and
her fingers turned the key softly and groped to the bolt above--and
pushed at it--hard--and fell back--and groped for it again--and
tugged... little beads of sweat were coming on the brown forehead. She
drew the back of her hand swiftly across them and reached again to the
bolt. It was too high--she could reach it--but not to push. She felt for
a chair, in the darkness--and lifted it, without a sound, and carried
it to the door and climbed up. There was a great lump in her throat now.
Mr. Achilles did not know the bolt would stick like this--she gave a
fierce, soft tug, like a sob--and it slid back. The knob turned and the
door opened and she was in the night.... For a moment her eyes groped
with the blackness. Then a long, quiet hand reached out to her--and
closed upon her--and she gave a little sob, and was drawn swiftly into
the night.