"Your mother is going to sleep." His voice was low. "And we are
going to be quiet and not wake her. Jimmy will play with you, and
I--"
"Will you tell me a story?" Sleepily the child leaned against his
shoulder, one arm thrown over it. "Will you tell me a pretty story
about--"
As they disappeared through the door opening into Mrs. Gibbons's
quarters I went into Mrs. Cotter's room, but for a moment drew back.
I had learned not to shrink at much that once I would have run from,
but the gaunt body and ghastly face of the woman propped against
pillows on the bed frightened me, and my feet refused to move. All
the hardships and denials, the injustices and inequalities, of
working womanhood, unfit to fight and unprepared for struggle, were
staring at me, and on the open lips was something of the mocking
smile that had been on Lillie Pierce's face when she was first
brought in to Mrs. Mundy.
Heavily, and with great labor, breath came gaspingly, and the blank
stare in the eyes made me think at first I was too late. Slowly I
went toward the bed, and at its side I took a twitching hand in mine,
and as I did so the staring eyes turned to me.
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