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In a thick, choked voice she said: "Is that you, Pap?" "It's me," he replied; "it's me, sure enough." "Why, so'tis. Popsy, where's my money?" "Here, Sissy, right here." She extended a thin, wasted hand. "I want you to have it, Pap," she said, speaking very slowly, but in a clearer tone. "You see, it's like this. I've got the diptheery, an' I'm a-goin' to die. I don't need the money see!
Gwenda looked up from her book. "No," she said. "He's away, isn't he?" "Away? 'El'll nat get away fer long enoof. 'E's too ill." "Ill?" Alice sent the word out on a terrified breath. Nobody took any notice of her. "T' poastman tell mae," said Mrs. Gale. "From what 'e's 'eerd, 'twas all along o' Nad Alderson's lil baaby up to Morfe. It was took wi' the diptheery a while back.
"But first I wish to beg your pardon. I had no right to speak as I did in the store this evening. I'm sorry." Pap nodded indifferently. "'Twas good advice," he muttered. "I ain't skeered o' much, but diptheery gives me cold feet. I calc'late to skin out o' this and into the mountains to-morrer. How about this yere loan?" "It's not for us," said I.
"We've no money," said Ajax, "but we've leisure. I dare say we may dig graves." "You're two crazy fools." "We know that, Mr. Spooner." "I'm a-goin' to tell ye something. Diptheery in this yere country is worse'n small-pox and I've seen both." The look of horror came again into his face. "My wife an' my child died o' diptheery nearly thirty- five year ago." He shuddered.
"I mean," Ajax replied, savagely so savagely that the old man recoiled and nearly fell off the barrel "I mean, Mr. Spooner, that the diphtheria has come to Paradise, and is likely to stay here so long as there is flesh for it to feed on." "The diptheery?" exclaimed Pap. Into his eyes those dull grey eyes flitted terror and horror. But Ajax saw nothing but what had festered so long in his own mind.
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