“I’ll tache ye!” she shouted, the devil put into her by rum driving her to fury. “Ye measlin’, grouty little thing! forever moanin’ an’ cryin’ fer the sickly brat that’s gone, good riddance to her! Come, now, step up lively. We’ll make a night of it, an’ ye shall hev a sup o’ gin to wet yer t’roat whin ye get warm.”
She whirled Dil about savagely, until she was dizzy and faint, and broke away in desperation. But her mother clutched her again, and gave her a resounding box on the ear. She managed, as she was whirled round, to open the door into the hall, and scream with all the strength she could summon. Her mother seized her again with a dreadful imprecation. What happened, how it happened in the dark, Dil could never clearly remember.
Fred Minch sprang up and opened the door. Something bumped down the stairs, and lay in a heap at his feet.
“It’s that poor little girl, mother. She’s bleeding, killed maybe. I’ll run for a policeman.”
Mrs. Minch picked up the senseless child. Mrs. Quinn went on yelling, swearing, smashing things, and dancing like a mad woman.
Rows were no uncommon thing in the court. Windows were thrown up. Who was it? Some wretched wife being beaten? And when they found it was Mrs. Quinn, they shook their heads. She had been going to the dogs of late, it was plain to see.
When the officer came, she made such a vigorous onslaught that he was forced to call assistance. She was after Owen now, and Dil had hidden him. The threats she uttered were enough to make one shudder. They mastered her at length, and dragged her down-stairs, where Mrs. Minch was waiting to explain poor Dil’s plight.
She was still unconscious when the ambulance came. There was a bad cut up in the edge of her hair, but no bones seemed to be broken that any one could discover.
“Poor child!” said Mrs. Minch, when quiet was restored. “It would be a blessing if she could go with Bess. She’ll never get over the loss. She’s not been the same since, and many a day my heart’s ached for her.”
“She were a nice smart woman, that Mrs. Quinn, if she’d a let rum alone,” was the general verdict. “An’ though she took the child’s death in a sensible manner, it broke her all up,” said some of the court people, “and she went to hard drinking at once.”