"I tell you I dunno."
"What's in there?"
"My--my clothes."
"Let's see."
She plucked at the knot, drawing back for him to lean to see the top
layer of neatly folded waist.
"Don't," she said, withdrawing it quickly from his touch.
"Why," he said, "you poor little kid! What's got you into this mess?"
At that in his voice, such a quick, a thick, a hot layer of tears sprang
to her eyes that she could not relax her throat for words.
"What got you in?"
"I--I--I dunno."
"Aw, now, yes, you do know. Try to think--take your time--what got you
in?"
"I--I--can't--"
"Yes, you can. Go on; I ain't lookin' at you."
He turned off to an angle.
Her first sob burst from her, tearing her throat and ending in a tremolo
of moans in her throat.
"Now, now," he said, still in profile; "that won't do. Not for a
sensible little girl like you. Easy--easy--take your time--"
"You see, mister--you see, it was my--my mamma--my beautiful, darling
mamma--O God!--"
"Yes, yes; it was your mamma--and then what?"
"It was my mamma, my beautiful, darling mamma! What'll I do, mister? I
can't make it up to her. No way--nohow. She's gone--she's gone--"
"Easy--easy--try to keep easy.
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