"Please—just for a minute! For somebody that's sick—maybe dyin'. Just tell her you're my young man—tell her everything's all right—everything's comin' all right for all of us, for her and—and my little brother, and—and me—you and me—like you was my young man, please, lovin' and all. And tell her how pretty her poor hair is and how everything's goin'—goin' to be all right. Come, please—it's just next door."
"Why, you poor little thing! I ain't much on play-actin'; and look at my hands all black from the power-house!"
"Please! That ain't nothin'. It'll be only a minute. Just kinda say things after me and don't let her know—don't let her know that I—I ain't got any young man. Don't let her know!"
"You poor little thing, you—shaking like a leaf! Lead the way; but not so fast, little lady—you'll give out."
She cried and laughed her relief and dragged him across the sidewalk; and every step up the two flights she struggled to keep her hysterical voice within the veil of a whisper.
"Just say everythin' right after me. You—you're my young man and real sweet on me; and we're going to get—you know; everythin' is goin' to be fine, and my little brother's going to the Electric Institute, and everythin's goin' to be swell. Be right lovin' to her, sir—she's so sick. Oh, Gawd, I—"
"Don't cry, little girl."
"I ain't cryin'."
"Careful; don't stumble."
"Don't you stumble. Can you see? The landing's so dark."