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Updated: May 4, 2025
"He didn't love his mammy very much," Scraggy went on, "nor his pappy, nuther; but it were 'cause he didn't know nuther one of us very well, and Lem didn't love him nuther. And now they've fit till he's dead! Lemmy's sick, too. Look at his face! He can't swaller when he's sick like that." She left Everett and crawled to Lem. "Can ye drink, Lemmy?" she asked sorrowfully.
She leaned farther over, and kissed the white face of her son. "Yer hook's killed our little 'un, Lemmy my little 'un, my little 'un!" "Oh, no, no, he isn't dead!" cried Ann. "He can't be dead!" She let go her hold on Fledra, and, with Scraggy, bent over Everett. "Oh, he breathes! But he isn't your son?" "Yep; he be Lemmy's boy and mine," answered Scraggy, lifting her eyes once more to Ann. "Look!
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