"I canna do it," said Higgins. "I"m welly felled wi" seeing him. We wasn"tfriends; and now he"s dead."
"Well, if thou wunnot thou wunnot. Some one mun, though. It"s a dreetask; but it"s a chance, every minute, as she doesn"t hear on it in somerougher way nor a person going to make her let on by degrees, as itwere."
"Papa, do you go," said Margaret, in a low voice.
"If I could--if I had time to think of what I had better say; but all at once---"
Margaret saw that her father was indeed unable. He was tremblingfrom head to foot.
"I will go," said she.
"Bless yo", miss, it will be a kind act; for she"s been but a sickly sort ofbody, I hear, and few hereabouts know much on her."
Margaret knocked at the closed door; but there was such a noise, as ofmany little ill-ordered children, that she could hear no reply; indeed, shedoubted if she was heard, and as every moment of delay made her recoilfrom her task more and more, she opened the door and went in, shuttingit after her, and even, unseen to the woman, fastening the bolt.
Mrs. Boucher was sitting in a rocking-chair, on the other side of the ill-redd-up fireplace; it looked as if the house had been untouched for daysby any effort at cleanliness.
Margaret said something, she hardly knew what, her throat and mouthwere so dry, and the children"s noise completely prevented her frombeing heard. She tried again.
"How are you, Mrs. Boucher? But very poorly, I"m afraid."
"I"ve no chance o" being well," said she querulously. "I"m left alone tomanage these childer, and nought for to give "em for to keep "em quiet.
John should na ha" left me, and me so poorly."
"How long is it since he went away?"
"Four days sin". No one would give him work here, and he"d to go ontramp toward Greenfield. But he might ha" been back afore this, or sentme some word if he"d getten work. He might----"
"Oh, don"t blame him," said Margaret. "He felt it deeply, I"m sure----"
"Willto" hold thy din, and let me hear the lady speak!" addressing herself,in no very gentle voice, to a little urchin of about a year old. Sheapologetically continued to Margaret, "He"s always mithering me for"daddy" and "butty;" and I ha" no butties to give him, and daddy"s away,and forgotten us a", I think. He"s his father"s darling, he is," said she, witha sudden turn of mood, and, dragging the child up to her knee, shebegan kissing it fondly.
Margaret laid her hand on the woman"s arm to arrest her attention. Theireyes met.
"Poor little fellow!" said Margaret, slowly; "he was his father"s darling."
"He is his father"s darling," said the woman, rising hastily, and standingface to face with Margaret. Neither of them spoke for a moment or two.
Then Mrs. Boucher began in a low, growling tone, gathering inwildness as she went on: He is his father"s darling, I say. Poor folk canlove their childer as well as rich. Why dunno yo" speak? Why dun yo"
stare at me wi" your great pitiful eyes? Where"s John?" Weak as she was,she shook Margaret to force out an answer. "Oh, my God!" said she,understanding the meaning of that tearful look. She sank hack into thechair. Margaret took up the child and put him into her arms.
"He loved him," said she.
"Ay," said the woman, shaking her head, "he loved us a". We had someone to love us once. It"s a long time ago; but when he were in life andwith us, he did love us, he did. He loved this babby mappen the best onus; but he loved me and I loved him, though I was calling him fiveminutes agone. Are yo" sure he"s dead?" said she, trying to get up. "If it"sonly that he"s ill and like to die, they may bring him round yet. I"m butan ailing creature mysel"--I"ve been ailing this long time."
"But he is dead--he is drowned!"
"Folk are brought round after they"re dead-drowned. Whatten was Ithinking of, to sit still when I should be stirring mysel"? Here, whisththee, child--whisth thee! tak" this, tak" aught to play wi", but dunnot crywhile my heart"s breaking! Oh, where is my strength gone to? Oh, John-husband!"
Margaret saved her from falling by catching her in her arms. She satedown in the rocking chair, and held the woman upon her knees, herhead lying on Margaret"s shoulder. The other children, clusteredtogether in affright, began to understand the mystery of the scene; butthe ideas came slowly, for their brains were dull and languid ofperception. They set up such a cry of despair as they guessed the truth,that Margaret knew not how to bear it. Johnny"s cry was loudest of themall, though he knew not why he cried, poor little fellow.
The mother quivered as she lay in Margaret"s arms. Margaret heard anoise at the door.
