“And you had a thrilling romance—Ella? I always felt it.”
Again silence, and then in low tones the woman told her story.
“Ja—a romance, too. I was so young and foolish—just a baby myself—not sixteen. But I was full of life and fun, and I had a way of doing what I pleased.
“The man was older than me—Oh, a lot older—with gray hairs on the side of his head. I was wild about him. I never took to kids. They didn't seem to like me——”
She paused as if hesitating to give her full confidence, and quickly went on:
“My folks were German. They couldn't speak English. I learned when I was five years old. They didn't like my lover. We quarrel day and night. I say they didn't like him because they could not speak his language. They say he was bad. I fight for him, and run away and marry him——”
Again she paused and drew a deep breath.
“Ah, I was one happy little fool that year! He make good wages on the docks—a stevedore. They had a strike, and he got to drinking. The baby came——”
She stopped suddenly.
“You had a little baby, Ella?” the girl asked in a tender whisper.