There were people around until after supper. Then two or three of them went down to Mrs. MacBride’s. Mrs. Murphy promised to stay with Dil.
“Shure,” said some one, “there’ll be a third goin’ out prisintly. It’s bad luck when more than wan corpse goes over the trashold to wunst. An’ that Dil don’t look like long livin’. She’s jist worn hersilf out wid that other poor thing.”
In the evening Patsey came rushing up-stairs with some Christmas for the two girls. He was shocked beyond measure. He hardly dared go in and see Dil, but she called him in a weak, sad tone.
“O Dil!” That was all he said for many minutes, as he sat on the side of the cot, holding her hand. The strange look in her face awed him.
“Have ye seen Owny?” he whispered.
“Not since the night mother beat him.”
“Owny—he’s safe. He’ll do well. Don’t bodder yees poor head ’bout him. He’s keepin’ out o’ der way, ’cause he’s ’fraid de old woman’ll set de cop on him. He ain’t comin’ back no more, but don’t you worry. But he’ll feel nawful! O Dil, I never s’posed she’d go so soon, if she was ’pindlin’ an’ weakly. Seemed when she’d lived so long—”
Patsey broke down there.
“O Patsey, I didn’t s’pose she could die, jes’ common dyin’ like other folks. They’ve taken her away an’ put her with dead people—I don’t know where. You’ll tell him. An’—an’ mebbe ’twould be better if he didn’t come back. Mother’d beat him nawful, and ’pears ’s if I couldn’t see any more beatin’s. Don’t tell me an’ then I won’t know. But you’ll see an’ keep him safe.”
“Poor Dil! I’m jist as sorry’s I kin hold. I loved you an’ Bess, for I didn’t never hev any folks,” said the boy brokenly.