In effect, Cypress Hill fell slowly into a state of siege. Surrounded on three sides by the barrier of barbed wire, the sole means of egress was the long drive turning into Halsted street. Here there was danger, for disorders occurred frequently at the very wrought iron gates, now rusted and broken. Stones were hurled by the strikers and shots fired by the police. The wagons of the Town no longer delivered goods at a spot so isolated and dangerous, and the duties of supplying the place with food came gradually to be divided between Irene and Hattie Tolliver, whose lack of friendliness and understanding toward each other approached an open hatred. They alone of the little garrison went in and out of the wrought iron gates; for Hennery and the mulatto woman were far too terrified by the disorders outside ever to venture into the Town.
On the day of Lily’s letter Hattie Tolliver, bearing a well-laden basket, arrived and went at once to Aunt Julia’s room. She brooked no interference from the mulatto woman.
After bidding Sarah place the contents of the basket in a cool place she swept by the servant with a regal swish of black skirts.
Upstairs in the twilight Julia Shane lay in the enormous bed, flat on her back staring at the ceiling. At the approach of her niece she raised herself a little and asked in a feeble voice to be propped up. It was as though the approach of her vigorous rosy-faced niece endowed her with a sudden energy.
“And how are you?” asked Hattie Tolliver when she had smoothed the pillows with an expert hand and made the old woman more comfortable than she had been in many days.
“The same ... just the same,” was the monotonous answer. “Lily is a long time in coming.”
Cousin Hattie went to the windows and flung back the curtains. “Light and air will do you good,” she said. “There’s nothing like light and air.” And then turning, “Why don’t you make Sarah keep the windows open?”
Julia Shane sat up more straightly, breathing in the crisp air. “I tell her to ... but she doesn’t like air,” she said weakly.
“You let her bully you! She needs some one to manage her. I’m surprised Irene doesn’t put her in her place.”
The old woman smiled. “Irene,” she said. “Irene.... Why she’s too meek ever to get on with servants. It’s no use ... her trying anything.”