Everything--even her fear of Pap Himes, her dread of the
room boss--finally became vague in her mind. More and more she dreaded
little Lissy's well-meant visitations; and after nearly an hour she
stole toward the door, looking half deliriously for Sister Johnnie.
Nobody noticed in the noisy, flaring room that spool after spool on her
frame fouled its thread and ceased turning, as the little figure left
its post and hesitated like a scared, small animal toward the main exit.
Pap Himes, having come to where he could leave his work in the basement,
climbed painfully the many stairs to the spinning room, and met her
close to where the big belt rose up to the great shaft that gave power
to every machine in that department.
The loving master of the big yellow cat had always cherished a somewhat
clumsily concealed dislike and hostility to Deanie. Perhaps there
lingered in this a touch of half-jealousy of his wife's baby; perhaps he
knew instinctively that Johnnie's rebellion against his tyranny was
always strongest where Deanie was concerned.
"Why ain't you on your job?" he inquired threateningly, as the child saw
him and made some futile attempt to shrink back out of his way.
"I feel so quare, Pap Himes," the little girl answered him, beginning to
cry. "I thes' want to lay down and go to sleep every minute."
"Huh!" Pap exploded his favourite expletive till it sounded ferocious,
"That ain't quare feelin's.
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