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She looked up as if she had expected him, noted his dark face, and lowered her head again. "Black Pussy's gone, Lem. I've got a cold settin' on me here," she whispered, wheezing as she laid her hand on her chest. "I hope it'll kill ye!" grunted Lem. "What did you leave the toolhouse fer, when I told ye to stay?" "What toolhouse, Lemmy?" The dazed eyes looked up at him in surprise.
Will ye list to him will ye?" In her eagerness to take his attention from the shrieking yacht, now close to the scow, Scraggy advanced toward the swaying man. She tried to lift brave eyes to his face; but they were filled with tears as they met his drunken, shifting look. "Lem, Lemmy dear," she pleaded, "we love ye, both the brat an' me! He can say 'Daddy' " "Git out of my way, git out!
His voice was so low that Horace did not catch the words; but Scraggy heard, and crawled from Lem to Miss Shellington's side. "Missus, will ye tell my little boy-brat that his mammy be here? Will ye say as how I loved him him and Lemmy, allers?" Her haggard face was close to Ann's, and the latter took in every word of the low-spoken petition. Miss Shellington bent over the dying man.
A smile, sweet and winning, curved his lips. Then he lapsed into unconsciousness again. "Oh, I want him to speak to me, Horace," moaned Ann, "only a little word!" "Wait, Dear," said Horace. "We're doing all we can.... I believe that man over there is dead." He made a motion as if to lean over the scowman; but Scraggy pushed him back. "No, my Lemmy ain't dead," she wailed, "course he ain't dead!"
Lem bent over her, his eyes blazing with wrath. "Ye want to git yer batty head a workin' damn quick," he shouted, "or I'll slit yer throat with this!" The rusty hook was thrust near the thin, drawn face. "I can't think tonight," muttered Screech Owl, "'cause the bats be a runnin' 'bout in my head. When I think, I'll tell ye, Lemmy." "Where be that boy?" demanded Lem. Scraggy shook her head.
See that Lemmy doesn't stuff things into his ears and nose; mind you don't let the baby fall, and behave yourself." She wasn't told what would be the consequence if she did not "behave herself," but Tidy felt that she had something to fear from that flashing eye and heavy brow.
"Set still!" growled Crabbe. "Can't I get the brat, Lemmy?" she pleaded. "He's likely to fall offen the bed." "Let him fall. What do I care? I want to tell ye somethin'. I didn't bring ye here to this boat to boss me, ye see? Ye keep yer mouth shet 'bout things what ye don't like. Ye're in my way, anyhow." "Ye mean, Lemmy, as how I has to leave ye?"
"Lemmy, Lemmy dear " Another twist of Lem's fingers, and the woman sank back unconscious. Lem shook her roughly. "Scraggy, Scraggy!" he cried wildly. "Set up! I Want to talk to ye! Set up!" The silence in the gloomy hut, the whiteness of the seemingly dead woman, filled Lem with superstitious dread. He grasped his lantern and ran out, failing to close the door.
"Lemmy, Lemmy," she gasped between hard-coming breaths, "I'm comin' after ye and our pretty boy! Wherever ye both be I come " A film gathered over Scraggy's eyes, and her words were cut short by the pain of the intermittent flutterings of her heart. She fell lower, and with a last weak effort drew the heads closer together.
The cat, scrambling to the floor inside, was Lem's answer. He knocked again. "Scraggy! Scraggy!" he called. "It be Lemmy! Open the door!" Through her deep sleep came the voice Screech Owl had loved, and still loved. She sat up in bed, trembling violently, pushing back with a pathetic gesture the gray hair from her eyes. She had been dreaming of Lem dreaming that she had heard his voice.
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