“Yes; he's hurt. He's——”
“Be calm, child; tell me everything,” said Glory, and Aggie delivered her message.
Since leaving Holloway, Father Storm had been followed and found by means of the dog. The crowd had set on him and knocked him down and injured him. He was now lying in Aggie's room. There had been nowhere else to take him to, for the men had disappeared the moment he was down, and the women were afraid to take him in. The police had come at last and they were now gone for the parish doctor. Mrs. Pincher was with the Father, and the poor dog was dead.
Glory held her hand over her heart while Aggie told her story. “I follow you,” she said. “Did you tell him I was here? Did he send you to fetch me?”
“He didn't speak,” said Aggie.
“Is he unconscious?”
“Yes.”
“I'll go with you at once.”
Hurrying across the streets by Glory's side, Aggie apologized for her room again. “I down't live thet wy now, you know,” she said. “It may seem strange to you, but while my little boy was alive I couldn't go into the streets to save my life—I couldn't do it. And when 'is pore father died lahst week——”
The stone stairs to the tenement house were thronged with women. They stood huddled together in groups like sheep in a storm. There was not a man anywhere visible, except a drunken sailor, who was coming down from an upper story whistling and singing. The women silenced him. Had he no feelings?