Elizabeth held it out. The baby knew whether she would or not. Instantly her fingers closed about it, and carried it to her mouth. It was only a few moments until the eyes closed and the child was fast asleep with the bit of orange tight in her hand.
“Your husband works at Italee?” asked the woman of the child’s mother, as she was arranging her lunch for them.
“Yes’m, he works in the brickyard there. We hain’t been there long. I was just up home buryin’ my mother.”
“What is your husband’s name?”
“Koons—Sam Koons. He’s a molder. They pay pretty well there. That’s why we moved. He used to work up at Keating; but it seemed like we’d do better down here.”
“There’s no brickyard at Keating?”
“No; but there’s mines. Sam, he’s a miner, but he’s takin’ up the brick trade.”
“Yes; I see. I do not wonder that you were glad to leave Keating. It surely is a rough place. I have never known a town so reeking with liquor. There’s every inducement there for a man’s going wrong, and none for his going right.”
“Yes’m,” said Mrs. Koons. Her deprecatory, worried expression showed that she appreciated the disadvantages of the place. “That’s what I’ve always told Sam,” she continued in her apologetic, meek voice. “When a man’s trying to do his best and keep sober, there’s them what would come right in his house and ask him to drink. A man may be meanin’ well, and tryin’ to do what’s right, but when the drink’s in his blood, and there’s them what’s coaxin’ him to it, it hain’t much wonder that he gives up. Sam, he’s one of the biggest-hearted men, and a good miner, but he’s no man for standin’ his ground. He’s easy-like to lead. We heard there wasn’t no drinkin’ places about Italee—they wasn’t allowed—so we come.”
“Yes; I’ve heard that Mr. Gleason tried to keep the place free from drink.”