CHAPTER XV

IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT

"Until the Day break and the shadows flee away,"--Song of Sol. iv, 6

"Oh, my tooth! Oh, my tooth! Mollie, hain't ther nawthin' ye kin do?"

Bobbie, tearful and angry, was almost rebellious.

"Wow! Lawsey! Hain't thet thunder turrible? Mollie, does thunder strike?" Johnnie wanted to know.

"What ef hit set fire ter th' barn! Would we burn up, Mollie?" That was Leon.

"Mollie, Mollie, I'm afeared. Didja ever see sich a storm, Mollie? Hain't yo' afeared? D'y s'pose Stevie's out in hit?"

"Don't--don't none o' yo' talk about Stevie. Hit makes me feel bad. He's gone 'n' Cynthy's gone, an' ther's only me left ter look arter all yo' young-uns an' I cain't do hit alone--I jist cain't. I'm a-nigh sick thinkin' erbout hit. An' I dunno what's become o' ary one on 'em. Mebbe they're worsser off en ary o' us! When I think thet, I feel ter set me right down an' die.--Hyar, Bobbie, I'm a-makin' a poultice now fer thet that tooth. Come hyar til I tie hit on.--Shore, the thunder strikes, jist same as th' light'nin', but hit don't strike good little boys an' girls. Go ter bed now an' fergit hit. I'll read yo' all some stories soon es I kin.--Is thet Amy a-cryin'? Leathie, give her thet that sugar teat I made. Hit fell on th' floor. I wisht she hed a dollie!"

Poor Mollie was almost distracted. She did not wonder that the children were frightened. The storm that was raging was unusually severe. They could hear the trees bending and snapping under the strain of the wind, and the rain pouring in torrents upon the roof of the old structure in which they were so precariously sheltered. All the farm animals were uneasy and restless and the children were as wakeful as young hawks. If any of them didn't really have an ailment or need some kind of attention they were in a mood to imagine something.

Mollie wondered, dully, how it would seem to have somebody wait upon her as she waited upon them. When she first came to the farm there had been only herself--and Splutters. They had been frightened by the storms and the dark, and they had had to sit, shivering and crying, until they had fallen asleep from sheer weariness. It was because she knew from experience how awful it was that she had so much sympathy and patience with the little ones.

Now, there were some comforts. She had even managed to warm milk for the baby. But little Amy was fast lapsing into a condition where neither milk, dollies, nor any of the ordinary consolations of babyhood would interest or aid her. White and still she lay, unmindful, possibly unconscious of the children's efforts to help and amuse.

How the thunder crashed! It fairly jarred the old barn. The lightning was almost continuous. Suppose something should happen? What would they do! What could they do? And where, oh, where was Stevie?

Mollie ran frantically from one child to the other in a desperate effort to quiet them and get them settled for the night.

This was difficult, for they were all hungry. Always with barely enough food to keep them alive, their hunger became acute and painful when Grimes took away their supper as he had done to-night because Mollie, in her efforts to relieve their hunger had filled her dress with potatoes. A furious slap administered to Ambrose had revealed the potatoes. The ungainly youth had taken pleasure in witnessing her punishment and her tearful pleas to Grimes not to take away the children's food because of what she, alone, had done. Grimes had long ago learned that the way to make Mollie suffer was by making the children unhappy and miserable.

But as the storm increased in fury she took what was left of the picture books from their hiding place, gathered the children about her and told them the stories anew. It would serve, she thought, to dispel their fears and make them forget their misery. Just as that object had been accomplished the bell over the gate clanged forth above the roar of the storm. It sent every child scurrying to the usual cracks and crevices for observation. Mollie as quickly extinguished the light. It would be wise to let Grimes think them asleep.

"Thar he goes with a lantern," exclaimed Johnnie, as Grimes came forth from the house and strode, with more alacrity than they had ever seen him manifest, down to the gate, where the bell continued to ring.

"Mebbe hit's Splutters comin' back," suggested one of the children. "I wisht hit war."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Mollie. "We mustn't wish him back hyar. He war sick. He wanted to git away. Ef he gits a chanst he'll tell somebody erbout us. Thet hain't him. See, hit's a man."

"He's a carryin' sumpin'--I reckon hit's another baby."

"What's thet big light a-blazin' down thar?"

"Aw, hit's a owttymobeel--hain't yo'-all ever seed one? I hev."

Mollie was not heeding the whispered conversation going on about her. She was wondering how she could possibly manage to look after another very young child, now that neither Cynthy nor Splutters was there to help her. She noticed that when the stranger left the house, after remaining in the kitchen but a few moments, he carried no bundle.

Peter made a second trip to the gate to lock it after his mysterious visitors and again returned to the house. From the door he shouted for Mollie. She knew she must make haste to obey the summons. Quickly depositing little Amy where she would be most comfortable, Mollie turned to the children. She had already replenished the light.

"Now don't git frightened," she said. "I'm a comin' right back an' I'll try ter fotch yo' a snack ter eat."

She slipped, barefooted as usual, down the ladder and ran, through the mud and rain, to the house. To her surprise, the whole family was up. They had evidently been expecting the late visitor for Maria had her hair combed and there was a cloth upon the table, at which something in the nature of food was about to be served.

The table was large. Over the opposite end was thrown a large, old-fashioned, blanket shawl and seated in the very center of the shawl, which had evidently served to wrap about her, was the very prettiest, most beautifully dressed baby girl that Mollie had ever seen. Mollie did not realize that the beribboned little frock the child wore was only a night-gown, nor did she think of the incongruity of her appearance and that of the other children at the farm. There were no class distinctions in Mollie's world. She only knew that the little one was beautiful--more like an animated doll than a real, flesh and blood baby. Mollie hesitated for a moment, scarce knowing what was required of her.

Grimes nodded sullenly toward the child on the table. The little one had risen now and, with chubby, outstretched arms was endeavoring to make overtures to Peter. She laughed, revealing two rows of tiny, even, white teeth and a pair of bewitching dimples. The short curls that clustered closely about her head bobbed and danced when she nodded and bowed in her evident enjoyment of the strange situation in which she found herself.

"Take keer of her," snarled Grimes to Mollie. "Git her outen hyar."

"Me--take keer o' her?" gasped Mollie, thinking she had not heard aright. "Yo' mean ter giv her ter me--ter hev her with us--out thar?" This with an inclination of her head toward the barn loft.

"Yo' heered whut I sed," returned Grimes. "Git her outen hyar mighty quick, afore I lam yo'."

With a cry of joy Mollie swept the beautiful baby into her arms. She had never had a doll since she arrived at the farm. All her dolls had been live babies. But this one looked like the doll she remembered playing with in the long ago, when she played by her mother's knee. And this one could walk and talk! She snatched up the shawl and wrapped it about the child, preparatory to dashing with it through the rain to the barn. Peter reached forth his begrimed hand and dragged the shawl away.

He did not speak. The action sufficed. Mollie stared out at the storm and wondered what to do. The baby must be covered and it must be fed. With two quick, bird-like darts she caught up food that lay within reach and which Maria would not miss, pulled off the old coat which she had been holding over her own head and wrapped it tightly about the new baby. Then, totally unprotected herself, she dashed out into the storm.

Five minutes later the roly-poly baby girl was holding a levee in the barn loft and trying to tell the children her name. Patiently, and with irresistible smiles, she pronounced it again and again, but not one of those who heard could understand or pronounce it after her.

"Yo' must go ter sleep, now, honey," said Mollie, as she made a place for the child upon one of the make-shift beds. "Shut them pretty eyes tight an' see whut nice things yo'll see." The child, having already been aroused from sleep to make the trip and now wearied by excitement, sweetly obeyed Mollie's urging and promptly fell asleep.

But there was no rest for Mollie. Little Amy's plaintive moans rent her heart. She had never seen anyone die, but she knew, instinctively that the frail little creature would not live through the night. There was nothing more she could do. For weeks she had been doing everything she could possibly think of to sooth and cure the sick baby but evidently her prayers were not going to be answered. God had not even indicated that he had received their message on the kite. It was very strange. She could not understand it. And she was tired--very, very tired. Her head nodded forward, but she drew herself up hastily and forced her eyes wide open.

She must not sleep-she must not sleep. Something strange and miraculous was going to happen to Amy. She must keep watch and see what it was. Perhaps the child might awake and be frightened--It was still now in the loft. All the children were asleep, herself, was the only one awake, and she was very, very tired!--She leaned her head back against an upright post that supported the root and gazed down upon the dying child in her lap. No, she would not go to sleep, but she would close her eyes--and rest them--for one, little minute. Just one minute. Then Mollie gave a little sigh, and closed her eyes.