“It breathes, but—but——” She drew its head on to her shoulder and peered more closely into the small white face. “It breathes, but—but what is the matter with it? What have you done to it?”—glancing at them suspiciously. For the boy, after returning her look with lack-lustre eyes, had averted his face from the light and from hers.
“It’s had a dose,” Bess answered roughly—she had had her moment of alarm. “In an hour or two it will awake. Then you can feed it. Here’s the porridge. And there’s milk. It was fresh this morning and must be fresh enough now. Hang the brat, I’m sure it has been trouble enough. Now you can nurse it, my lass, and I wish you joy of it, and a gay good-night! And before morning you’ll know what it costs to rob Bess Hinkson of her lad!”
“But the child will die!” Henrietta cried, rising to her feet—she could stand in the place, but not quite erect. “Stay! Stay! At least take——”
“What?”
“Take the child in! And warm and feed it! Oh, I beg you take it!” Henrietta pleaded. “It will die here! It is cold now! I believe it is dying now!”
“Dying, your grand-dam!” the girl retorted, scornfully. “But if we take it, will you stay?”
“I will!” Henrietta answered. “I will!”
“So you will! And the child, too!” Bess retorted. And she slammed-to the door. But again, while Henrietta, appalled by her position, still stared at the place, the shutter fell, and Bess thrust in her dark, handsome face. “See here!” she said. “If you begin to scream and shout, it will be the worse for you, and do you remember that! I shall not come, but I shall send Saul. He’s took a fancy to you, and will find a way of silencing you, I’ll bet!” with an unpleasant smile. “So now you know! And if you want his company you’ll shout!”
She slammed the shutter to again with that, and Henrietta heard the bolt fall into its place.
The girl stood for a moment, staring and benumbed. But presently her eyes, which at first travelled wildly round, grew more sober. They fell on her tiny fellow-prisoner, and, resting on that white, unconscious cheek, on those baby hands clenched in some bygone paroxysm, they filled slowly with tears.