“Lola! The child is suffering.”
“Naturally, I am very sorry for her,” replied Lola, “but you can’t stop all the suffering in the world, and I’m sure Jane will be furious if we keep her waiting much longer.”
“Come, Nellie,” said Dr. Barnhelm, replying to Lola only with a look of reproach. “We will use the library, Paul. You can be making us a cocktail, John; we won’t be long.” He turned kindly to Mrs. Mooney. “It would be better for you to remain here. This gentleman is Dr. Crossett, one of the leading surgeons of Paris. He will do his best to help us.”
“God bless you, sir,” cried the grateful woman to Dr. Crossett, impressed, as all whom he met were, by his air of quiet confidence. “I think you would help her, if you could.”
“I am going to try, very earnestly, very hopefully. She is young; that is in our favor. Very shortly now I shall tell you, quite frankly, just what our chances are.”
He left the room with Dr. Barnhelm and Nellie. John had stepped into the dining-room to mix the cocktail. Mrs. Mooney stood watching Nellie until she had passed out of sight, then turned and crossed to where Lola stood looking indolently out of the window.
“You say you can’t stop all the suffering in the world,” she began, trying hard to control herself. “No, you can’t! That child of mine was born to it. She’s had it every hour of her life. Don’t think I am forgetting what I owe to your father, and to you. But I never thought to hear you speak like that!”
“Why did you come here?” Lola turned on her with a fierceness that made her own seem tame. “How dared you and your sickly child put me in a false position? Do you think that my father has nothing to do but devote his skill to you? For what?” She hissed the question at her, her voice shrill with scorn and contempt. “You won’t pay him. You know that! His time is his wealth, and you rob him of it. Do you know what they call a person who robs another of his wealth? A thief!”
Mrs. Mooney drew back, almost cowering before the flashing brilliancy in Lola’s eyes, heart-sick at the bitter insult of her words. But she was proud, with the decent pride of a woman who has lived a hard life blamelessly, and there was a trace of Lola’s own bitterness in her voice as she answered.
“I’ve been an honest woman always, but if it would bring health to her I’d be a thief. Maybe it’s just as hard for me to take your charity as it is for you to give it. After what you’ve said I’d rather cut my own arm off than come here, but it ain’t my arm that’s in danger, it’s Nellie’s, and she’s got to have her chance. God knows best what’s come over you, Miss, but your heart ain’t the same as it used to be.”