Again the weak little voice sank into low, meaning less murmurs. The tiny, clawlike fingers plucked at the coverlet. "Tain't so, the princess lady will find her jewel of happiness, I tell yer, Bobby, jest like the Interpreter told us—cause her heart is kind—yer know her heart is—kind—kind—"
Silence again. Some one passed the house. A dog howled. A child in the house next door cried. Across the street a man's voice was raised in anger.
Suddenly little Maggie's eyes opened wide. "An' the princess lady is a-comin' some day to take Bobby and me away up in the sky to her beautiful palace place where there's flowers and birds an' everythin' all the time an'—an'—"
The big eyes were fixed on Helen's face as the' young woman stooped over the bed, and the light of a glorious smile transformed the wasted childish features.
"Why—why—yer—yer've come!"
CHAPTER XXV
McIVER'S OPPORTUNITY
When the politician stopped at the cigar stand late that afternoon for a box of the kind he gave his admirers, the philosopher, scratching the revenue label, remarked, "I see by the papers that McIver is still a-stayin'."
"Humph!" grunted the politician with careful diplomacy.
The bank clerk who was particular about his pipe tobacco chimed in,
"McIver is a stayer all right when it comes to that."