"My grandchild! From a good mother and a bad father comes a good grandchild. My grandchild! She'm a good one. My—"
"Mama dearie, Mr. Haas is in a hurry. He's come to help me walk you into a little room to rest before we go home in Mr. Haas's big, fine auto. Where you can go and rest, mama, and read the newspapers. Come."
"My back—ach—my back!"
"Yes, yes, mama; we'll fix it. Up! So—la!"
They raised her by the crook of each arm, gently.
"So! Please, Mr. Haas, the pillows. Shawl. There!"
Around a rear hallway, they were almost immediately into a blank, staring hotel bedroom, fresh towels on the furniture-tops only enhancing its staleness.
"Here we are. Sit her here, Mr. Haas, in this rocker."
They lowered her, almost inch by inch, sliding down pillows, against the chair-back.
"Now, Shila's little mama want to sleep?"