“He alone can save me,” said I, “if He will. It has come to this that I have none but Him in whom I can trust.”
She began to weep. I said no more, but obeyed the command and went down.
Since I was last there months had passed—months of suffering and anguish in body and mind. The remembrance of my last visit there came over me as I entered. Yet I did not tremble or falter. I crossed the threshold and entered the room, and stood before them in silence.
I saw the three men who had been there before. He and his son, and the man Clark, They had all been drinking. Their voices were loud and their laughter boisterous as I approached. When I entered they became quiet, and all three stared at me. At last he said to his son,
“She don’t look any fatter, does she, Johnnie?”
“She gets enough to eat, any how,” answered John.
“She’s one of them kind,” said the man Clark, “that don’t fatten up. But then, Johnnie, you needn’t talk—you haven’t much fat yourself, lad.”
“Hard work,” said John, whereupon the others, thinking it an excellent joke, burst into hoarse laughter. This put them into great good-humor with themselves, and they began to turn their attention to me again. Not a word was said for some time.
“Can you dance?” said he, at last, speaking to me abruptly.
“Yes,” I answered.