Johnnie, who had flown to the little
controlling wheel to throw off the power, came running back, crying out
in the sudden quiet.
"Shade--quick--get a ladder! Hold something under there! She might--Oh,
my God!" for Deanie's frock had pulled free and the little form hurled
down before Johnnie could reach them. But the devoted Mandy was there,
her futile, inadequate skirts upheld. Into them the small body dropped,
and together the two came to the floor with a dull sort of crunch.
When Johnnie reached the prostrate pair, Mandy was struggling to her
knees, gasping; but Deanie lay twisted just as she had fallen, the
little face sunken and deathly, a tiny trickle of blood coming from a
corner of her parted lips.
"Oh, my baby! Oh, my baby! They've killed my baby!
Deanie--Deanie--Deanie--!" wailed Mandy.
Johnnie was on her knees beside the child, feeling her over with
tremulous hands. Her face was bleached chalk-white, and her eyes stared
fearfully at the motionless lips of the little one, from which that
scarlet stream trickled; but she set her own lips silently.
"Thar--right thar in the side," groaned Mandy. "She's all staved in on
the side that--my pore little Deanie! Oh, I tried to ketch her, but she
broke right through and pulled my skirts out of my hand and hit
the floor."
Pap had drawn nearer on shaking limbs; the children crowded so close
that Johnnie looked up and motioned them back.
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