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Eager to have her dreams to herself, she forsook the window for her own room, and shut the door. The next morning, while Johnnie and Grandpa were returning from the field of Gettysburg, here, ascending from the area came the shrill voice of the Italian janitress: "Johnnie Smith! Johnnie Smith!" That meant the postman.
"Do you think," one asked of the janitress, "that mere fright and the loss of that comb made this strong girl ill?" "No. I think she must have guessed those men's errand, and her eye met the eye of some one who knew her." "But what of that?" "She is 'colored." "Impossible!" "I tell you, yes!" "Why, I thought her as pure German as her name."
She ate a piece of dry bread, washed her face, neck, and hands. It was time to start for the factory. That day Saturday was a half-holiday. Susan drew her week's earnings four dollars and ten cents and came home. Mrs. Tucker, who had drawn "thanks to the Lord" three dollars and a quarter, was with her. The janitress halted them as they passed and told them that Mrs. Reardon was dead.
Alicia seemed to ponder. She peered at her friend. "Do you understand this?" asked she. "It's from Enrique Darlés. Remember him? A young chap Manuel's friend." Then she asked Teodora: "Who brought this?" "An old woman." "What kind of a looking woman?" "I don't know. Well she looked like a janitress." Alicia lacked decision how to act.
It was a woman, and the sorrows of living and the troubles of dying were as naught to her. Above and about her hung the aroma of the peat fires of Scotland. It was our janitress, and she had returned us the empty bottle. A Boarding House for a Change.
She could not articulate; she nodded. "Oh, yes," said the janitress. "She had the third floor back, and was always kicking because Mrs. Pfister kept a guinea pig for her rheumatism and the smell came through." "Has she gone?" asked Susan. "Couple of weeks." "Where?" The janitress shrugged her shoulders. The other women shrugged their shoulders. Said the janitress: "Her feller stopped coming.
Then Romantin plunged his hand into a cupboard, and drew forth twenty empty bottles, which he fixed in the form of a crown around the hoop. He then went downstairs to borrow a ladder from the janitress, after having explained that he had made interest with the old woman by painting the portrait of her cat, exhibited on the easel.
"But if he really did do it, I don't care! Let the fool suffer for it. Did I tell him to? When you come right down to it, even if I had, what the devil? The one that does a thing is more to blame than the one that asks him to!" The carriage stopped, and Alicia and Candelas got out. They made their way in under a poverty-stricken doorway. Candelas called: "Janitress! Janitress!" No answer.
She was afraid to tell where and when she had lost her pin. "I see," said Grace slowly. "It looks pretty bad, doesn't it? But why didn't the janitress take it straight to Miss Thompson? That's what she usually does with articles she finds." "She missed seeing Miss Thompson that Saturday," said Anne.
It was unlocked, and she stole into the inner room, the Paradise, place of joy and sweet content, heart's rest, soul's heaven, love's own abode. The very atmosphere soothed her. She heard the janitress clatter through the halls, lock the door, and descend the stairs to her own rooms in the basement.
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