IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT
"Until the Day break and the shadows flee away,"--Song of Sol. iv, 6
"Oh, my tooth! Oh, my tooth! Mollie, hain't ther nawthin' ye kin
do?"
Bobbie, tearful and angry, was almost rebellious.
"Wow! Lawsey! Hain't thet thunder turrible? Mollie, does thunder
strike?" Johnnie wanted to know.
"What ef hit set fire ter th' barn! Would we burn up, Mollie?" That
was Leon.
"Mollie, Mollie, I'm afeared. Didja ever see sich a storm, Mollie?
Hain't yo' afeared? D'y s'pose Stevie's out in hit?"
"Don't--don't none o' yo' talk about Stevie. Hit makes me feel bad.
He's gone 'n' Cynthy's gone, an' ther's only me left ter look arter
all yo' young-uns an' I cain't do hit alone--I jist cain't. I'm
a-nigh sick thinkin' erbout hit. An' I dunno what's become o' ary
one on 'em. Mebbe they're worsser off en ary o' us! When I think
thet, I feel ter set me right down an' die.--Hyar, Bobbie, I'm
a-makin' a poultice now fer thet that tooth. Come hyar til I tie hit
on.--Shore, the thunder strikes, jist same as th' light'nin', but hit
don't strike good little boys an' girls. Go ter bed now an' fergit
hit. I'll read yo' all some stories soon es I kin.--Is thet Amy
a-cryin'? Leathie, give her thet that sugar teat I made. Hit fell
on th' floor. I wisht she hed a dollie!"
Poor Mollie was almost distracted. She did not wonder that the
children were frightened. The storm that was raging was unusually
severe. They could hear the trees bending and snapping under the
strain of the wind, and the rain pouring in torrents upon the roof of
the old structure in which they were so precariously sheltered. All
the farm animals were uneasy and restless and the children were as
wakeful as young hawks. If any of them didn't really have an ailment
or need some kind of attention they were in a mood to imagine
something.
Mollie wondered, dully, how it would seem to have somebody wait upon
her as she waited upon them. When she first came to the farm there
had been only herself--and Splutters. They had been frightened by
the storms and the dark, and they had had to sit, shivering and
crying, until they had fallen asleep from sheer weariness. It was
because she knew from experience how awful it was that she had so
much sympathy and patience with the little ones.
Now, there were some comforts. She had even managed to warm milk for
the baby. But little Amy was fast lapsing into a condition where
neither milk, dollies, nor any of the ordinary consolations of
babyhood would interest or aid her. White and still she lay,
unmindful, possibly unconscious of the children's efforts to help and
amuse.
How the thunder crashed! It fairly jarred the old barn. The
lightning was almost continuous. Suppose something should happen?
What would they do! What could they do? And where, oh, where was
Stevie?
Mollie ran frantically from one child to the other in a desperate
effort to quiet them and get them settled for the night.
This was difficult, for they were all hungry. Always with barely
enough food to keep them alive, their hunger became acute and painful
when Grimes took away their supper as he had done to-night because
Mollie, in her efforts to relieve their hunger had filled her dress
with potatoes. A furious slap administered to Ambrose had revealed
the potatoes. The ungainly youth had taken pleasure in witnessing
her punishment and her tearful pleas to Grimes not to take away the
children's food because of what she, alone, had done. Grimes had
long ago learned that the way to make Mollie suffer was by making the
children unhappy and miserable.
But as the storm increased in fury she took what was left of the
picture books from their hiding place, gathered the children about
her and told them the stories anew. It would serve, she thought, to
dispel their fears and make them forget their misery. Just as that
object had been accomplished the bell over the gate clanged forth
above the roar of the storm. It sent every child scurrying to the
usual cracks and crevices for observation. Mollie as quickly
extinguished the light. It would be wise to let Grimes think them
asleep.
"Thar he goes with a lantern," exclaimed Johnnie, as Grimes came
forth from the house and strode, with more alacrity than they had
ever seen him manifest, down to the gate, where the bell continued to
ring.
"Mebbe hit's Splutters comin' back," suggested one of the children.
"I wisht hit war."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Mollie. "We mustn't wish him back hyar. He war
sick. He wanted to git away. Ef he gits a chanst he'll tell
somebody erbout us. Thet hain't him. See, hit's a man."
"He's a carryin' sumpin'--I reckon hit's another baby."
"What's thet big light a-blazin' down thar?"
"Aw, hit's a owttymobeel--hain't yo'-all ever seed one? I hev."
Mollie was not heeding the whispered conversation going on about her.
She was wondering how she could possibly manage to look after another
very young child, now that neither Cynthy nor Splutters was there to
help her. She noticed that when the stranger left the house, after
remaining in the kitchen but a few moments, he carried no bundle.
Peter made a second trip to the gate to lock it after his mysterious
visitors and again returned to the house. From the door he shouted
for Mollie. She knew she must make haste to obey the summons.
Quickly depositing little Amy where she would be most comfortable,
Mollie turned to the children. She had already replenished the light.
"Now don't git frightened," she said. "I'm a comin' right back an'
I'll try ter fotch yo' a snack ter eat."
She slipped, barefooted as usual, down the ladder and ran, through
the mud and rain, to the house. To her surprise, the whole family
was up. They had evidently been expecting the late visitor for Maria
had her hair combed and there was a cloth upon the table, at which
something in the nature of food was about to be served.
The table was large. Over the opposite end was thrown a large,
old-fashioned, blanket shawl and seated in the very center of the
shawl, which had evidently served to wrap about her, was the very
prettiest, most beautifully dressed baby girl that Mollie had ever
seen. Mollie did not realize that the beribboned little frock the
child wore was only a night-gown, nor did she think of the
incongruity of her appearance and that of the other children at the
farm. There were no class distinctions in Mollie's world. She only
knew that the little one was beautiful--more like an animated doll
than a real, flesh and blood baby. Mollie hesitated for a moment,
scarce knowing what was required of her.
Grimes nodded sullenly toward the child on the table. The little one
had risen now and, with chubby, outstretched arms was endeavoring to
make overtures to Peter. She laughed, revealing two rows of tiny,
even, white teeth and a pair of bewitching dimples. The short curls
that clustered closely about her head bobbed and danced when she
nodded and bowed in her evident enjoyment of the strange situation in
which she found herself.
"Take keer of her," snarled Grimes to Mollie. "Git her outen hyar."
"Me--take keer o' her?" gasped Mollie, thinking she had not heard
aright. "Yo' mean ter giv her ter me--ter hev her with us--out
thar?" This with an inclination of her head toward the barn loft.
"Yo' heered whut I sed," returned Grimes. "Git her outen hyar mighty
quick, afore I lam yo'."
With a cry of joy Mollie swept the beautiful baby into her arms. She
had never had a doll since she arrived at the farm. All her dolls
had been live babies. But this one looked like the doll she
remembered playing with in the long ago, when she played by her
mother's knee. And this one could walk and talk! She snatched up
the shawl and wrapped it about the child, preparatory to dashing with
it through the rain to the barn. Peter reached forth his begrimed
hand and dragged the shawl away.
He did not speak. The action sufficed. Mollie stared out at the
storm and wondered what to do. The baby must be covered and it must
be fed. With two quick, bird-like darts she caught up food that lay
within reach and which Maria would not miss, pulled off the old coat
which she had been holding over her own head and wrapped it tightly
about the new baby. Then, totally unprotected herself, she dashed
out into the storm.
Five minutes later the roly-poly baby girl was holding a levee in the
barn loft and trying to tell the children her name. Patiently, and
with irresistible smiles, she pronounced it again and again, but not
one of those who heard could understand or pronounce it after her.
"Yo' must go ter sleep, now, honey," said Mollie, as she made a place
for the child upon one of the make-shift beds. "Shut them pretty
eyes tight an' see whut nice things yo'll see." The child, having
already been aroused from sleep to make the trip and now wearied by
excitement, sweetly obeyed Mollie's urging and promptly fell asleep.
But there was no rest for Mollie. Little Amy's plaintive moans rent
her heart. She had never seen anyone die, but she knew,
instinctively that the frail little creature would not live through
the night. There was nothing more she could do. For weeks she had
been doing everything she could possibly think of to sooth and cure
the sick baby but evidently her prayers were not going to be
answered. God had not even indicated that he had received their
message on the kite. It was very strange. She could not understand
it. And she was tired--very, very tired. Her head nodded forward,
but she drew herself up hastily and forced her eyes wide open.
She must not sleep-she must not sleep. Something strange and
miraculous was going to happen to Amy. She must keep watch and see
what it was. Perhaps the child might awake and be frightened--It was
still now in the loft. All the children were asleep, herself, was
the only one awake, and she was very, very tired!--She leaned her
head back against an upright post that supported the root and gazed
down upon the dying child in her lap. No, she would not go to sleep,
but she would close her eyes--and rest them--for one, little minute.
Just one minute. Then Mollie gave a little sigh, and closed her eyes.