It was very quiet in Mrs. Liggs’ living quarters, quite like a sanctuary; the three rooms flanked on either side by drab adobe walls and overlooking a back yard of some size, cut up into little plots—the only flower garden in Geerusalem, with a patch of vegetables growing in one corner. A gate opened into a narrow alleyway that led to the rear street.
“Jerome?” echoed Mrs. Liggs, after a short silence. She was gazing intently at her knitting. “Jerome is dead, Lex.” She spoke slowly, haltingly.
“Dead!”
He looked hard at the snowy bowed head a moment. Then he drew her gently to him again and laid his cheek against hers.
“I am so sorry to hear that,” he said in a voice that was tenderly sympathetic. “How long ago——”
“Lex, deary!” she broke in sobbingly. “Don’t let’s talk about it—please! The wound is too fresh, the pain in my heart is too—I can’t explain. Some of these days maybe, I’ll tell you the story. There ain’t many that would understand—that would believe. I know you could, ’cos—’cos you and Jerome were such good friends. When I saw you, you looking so—so happy and prosperous, I just—I just couldn’t help thinking that my boy——” She couldn’t finish. Burying her face in her apron, she wept disconsolately as if her heart would break.
Some time afterward, she told him about herself from the day fifteen years ago, that the Sangerlys moved from San José, and he remarked that it was much the same tale of striving that any of thousands of American mothers might relate—the indomitable, ceaseless struggle to get ahead.
“Then, after Mr. Liggs’ death, we drifted north to Marysville,” she concluded wearily. “I went into the delicatessen business and did well. One day, Jerome—it was a hard battle alone, Lex, but I managed to save money, and afterward I came to Geerusalem and opened this store. I’m the only woman in business here, and every one patronizes me. The boys won’t allow anybody to run opposition to me,” she added, with a faint smile.
Two hours passed quickly, considering that Mrs. Liggs insisted that Lex have lunch with her, disregarding his attempts to explain that he had an appointment with his two detectives at one o’clock.
So it was early afternoon when he finally picked up his hat and prepared to leave. At that juncture, a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door, and the following moment, Mrs. Liggs was ushering forward an outlandish, shriveled-up, old fellow of seventy, who halted suddenly in the center of the room and fastened a pair of watery blue eyes suspiciously on Lex.