“No, he’s not, mercifully,” said I. “He’s getting better, we hope.”
“And you mean to say,” said the woman, with her wrath rising, “you’ve got that child among you, and you’re not content with robbing him and keeping him away from me, but here you’ve half-murdered him into the bargain, you— Where is he, mister? I’ll take him back along with me; I’ve had enough of this tomfoolery, I tell you.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “it would kill him to move him! You mustn’t think of it.”
“Get out of the way!” she exclaimed, fiercely, trying to push past me. “I’ll take him out of this. I’ll teach you all whose child the boy is! Get out of my way! Let me go to him.”
What could I do? I had no right to keep a mother from her son; and yet, were she to carry out her threat, no one could say what the result to the boy might not be.
In my dilemma I thought of Mr Smith, and conducted my intractable visitor to his room, in the hopes that he might be able to dissuade her from carrying out her threat.
But nothing he could do or say could bring her to reason. She appeared to be persuaded in her own mind that the whole affair was a conspiracy to do her some wrong, and that being so, entreaties, threats, and even bribes would not put her off her idea of taking Billy away with her.
“Come now,” said she, after this ineffectual parley had gone on for some time, “I’m not going to be made a fool of by you two any more. Where’s Billy? where are you hiding him? It’s no use you trying to impose on me with your gammon!”
“He’s upstairs,” said I, feeling that further resistance was worse than useless. “I’ll run up and tell Jack you’re coming. Billy may be asleep.”
But the woman caught me roughly by the arm. “No, no!” said she, “I don’t want none of your schemes and plots; I can go up without your help, mister.”