'Now, look here,' he cried, with a sob in his throat. 'I know we're beggar's brats. I know yo hate th' seet on us. But I wor t' worst. I'm t' biggest. Tak Louie in, and bully-rag me as mich as yo like. Louie—Louie!' and he hung over her in a frenzy, 'wake up, Louie!'
But the child was insensible. Fatigue, the excitement of the struggle, the anguish of movement had done their work—she lay like a log upon his arm.
'She's fainted,' said Hannah, recognising the fact with a sort of fierce reluctance. 'Tak her up, an doan't stan blatherin theer.'
And she moved out of the way.
The boy gathered up the thin figure, and, stumbling over the tattered rugs, carried her up by a superhuman effort.
Reuben leant against the passage wall, staring at his wife.
'Yo're a hard woman, Hannah—a hard woman,' he said to her under his breath, in a low, shaken voice. 'An yo coed 'em beggar's brats—oh Lord—Lord!'
'Howd your tongue, an blow up t' fire,' was all the reply she vouchsafed him, and Reuben obeyed.
Meanwhile upstairs Louie had been laid on her bed. Consciousness had come back, and she was moaning.
David stood beside her in utter despair. He thought she was going to die, and he had done it. At last he sank down beside her, and flinging an arm round her, he laid his hot cheek to her icy one.