Prev | Current Page 237 | Next

Cooke, Grace MacGowan, 1863-1944

"The Power and the Glory"

Won't you go
tell Sis' Johnnie I'm waitin' for her?"
Mandy glanced forward through the weaving-room toward her own silent
looms, then down at the little, flushed face at her knee. If she dared
to do things, as Johnnie dared, she would pick up the baby and leave.
The very thought of it terrified her. No, she must get Johnnie herself.
Johnnie would make it right. She bent down and kissed the little thing,
whispering:
"Never you mind, honey. Mandy's going straight and find Sis' Johnnie,
and bring her here to Deanie. Jest wait a minute."
Then she turned and, swiftly, lest her courage evaporate, hurried down
the stair and to the time keeper.
"Ef you've got a substitute, you can put 'em on my looms," she said
brusquely. "I've got to go down in town."
"Sick?" inquired Reardon laconically, as he made some entry on a card
and dropped it in a drawer beside him.
"No, I ain't sick--but Deanie Consadine is, and I'm goin' over in town
to find her sister. That child ain't fitten to be in no mill--let alone
workin' night turn. You men ort to be ashamed--that baby ort to be in
her bed this very minute."
Her voice had faltered a bit at the conclusion. Yet she made an end of
it, and hurried away with a choke in her throat. The man stared after
her angrily.
"Well!" he ejaculated finally. "She's got her nerve with her.


Pages:
225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249