“Yeah!—And her forehead was all bloody where the pitcher struck her.”
“How long’s she been gone?”
“She just started. I came right over. Pa sent me up to bed and I skipped out over the woodshed roof.”
“Can she swim?”
“No! Anyhow, people that’s committing suicide don’t care whether they can swim! Most of ’em don’t!”
“Gosh, she may really kill herself. Whatcher want me to do?”
“Come with me, Billy. Maybe we can stop her!”
We reached the river but found no woman. Nathan felt for a certainty his mother had cast herself into the water and would not be consoled. He knelt upon the close-cropped grass and with face on his hands he sobbed distressingly.
“Why can’t I have a Pa and Ma that don’t fight all the time?” he cried hysterically. “Other fellows do! Why can’t I? Oh, Ma! Ma! Ma!”
I tried to console him but I was rather ill myself. Somehow I felt responsible for Mrs. Forge’s death, not having reached the stream in time to intercept and dissuade her. My own face was awash with tears as I tried to persuade my friend to go home and tell his dad.