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It was my first prayer. "O Christ in Heaven, help save them!" I pleaded. "Quick, Gregory, quick!" I added another supplication in the next breath. "Sue is bleeding, too!" again came a wail in Charlotte's voice. "Mikey's got the baby, but he's caught."
Martha started, but I held her tight against my breast. "I've got Mikey's pants loose with my teeth," came in Charlotte's voice, as a creaking of the timbers made a shudder run through the waiting crowd as every man and woman who held a restored treasure close, waited to see what would happen to the three left in the settling ruins. "Come out, Mikey, come out," called the Burns paternal parent.
Goodloe, whose card I had placed next my own, and found him looking at me with a particular softness in his eyes under the dull gold. "Charlotte's and Mikey's nine won twenty-eight to eighteen against Tommy Braidy and Maudie Burns.
"I'll lick him fer you, Miss Charlotte," offered Mikey, with a pass at the boy that I knew was only an affectionate threat. "I'll knock a stuffing out of you if you touch him," answered Charlotte, taking Mikey's offer with her usual literal directness. "When he's whipped, nobody but Auntie Charlotte can do it. Are you going to do it now, Auntie Charlotte?
"Sure, a minister of the gospel to teach me Mikey to stand on one leg and spin around on the other with his hands over his head is a quare thing, but the Riverend Goodloe is no ordinary man," said Mrs. Burns to Mother Spurlock, who answered: "You can trust him, Mrs. Burns, even with Mikey's legs." And during all the long weeks of activity not once did I have a word alone with the Harpeth Jaguar.
"You think like Piers does?" she murmured. "You think poor Mikey is happier now?" Avery paused an instant. The memory of Piers' look as he had uttered the words: "Choked with his own chain, poor devil!" seemed to grip her heart. Then: "Yes, dearie," she said softly. "I think as Piers does. I am glad for poor Mikey's sake that his troubles are over."
"I won't! I'm going to help Charlotte git out Stray," was the undutiful response of courage to the craven. "Where is he caught, Charlotte?" asked the parson, as he edged a little farther under the beam, which tottered and brought him to a cautious standstill. "His middle. Mikey's pushing and I'm pulling, but he's all bluggy. He's dead all but his toes that wiggle."
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