CHAPTER XVI.
HELEN AND THE STRIKE LEADER'S WIFE.
But what had become of Helen Nash?
It was a very determined little woman who stole out of the Stanlockresidence, with the contents of the last threatening letter fresh inher memory, after the return of the members of Flamingo Camp Fire fromtheir Sunday afternoon drive. She walked briskly four blocks east andboarded a street car.
A twenty-minutes' ride took her into the heart of the mining tenementdistrict. Reference to an address memorandum on a slip of paper thatshe carried in her handbag and a question to the conductor determinedwhere she should get off.
Heaver street, the conductor told her, was three blocks east. With noevidence of a slackening of resolution, she proceeded as directed andwas soon searching a long row of cottages, built along almostidentical lines, for number 632.
Reaching this number, she ascended a flight of seven or eight stepsand gave a quick turn to the old-fashioned fifteen-or-twenty-centtrip-action door bell. A pale-faced, care-worn woman of about 30years, who might have been mistaken for 40, answered the ring. Atsight of the caller she exclaimed in a voice that echoed years of toiland suffering:
"Helen!"
"Nell," was the greeting returned by the caller.
The woman stepped aside, and Helen stepped into a hall, whose solefurnishing consisted of a rag rug on the floor and a cheap hall-treewith a cracked mirror. Evidently it was the chief wardrobe of thehouse, for upon the twenty or more nails driven into the walls infairly regular order were articles of both men's and women's wear,most of them bearing evidence of contact with hard labor. From thehall, Helen was conducted into the "front room," the only name it wasever known by, which communicated with the dining room through a casedopening without portieres. These two rooms were about as barelyfurnished as possible under a minimum of necessary articles andquality. A threadbare ingrain carpet covered the floor of the frontroom. A few rag rugs hid probably some of the worst gaps in thematching of the yellow-pine floor of the dining room.
As for human life in this house of pinch and poverty, it was hardlyvigorous enough to attract attention ahead of the furnishings.Clinging to the faded skirts of their mother were three hungry-eyedanaemic children, a girl and two boys.
"How are you, Nell?" inquired Helen, giving the woman a kiss thatseemed almost to frighten her. "It's been two years since I've seenyou."
"I'm not very well, Helen," the other replied, wearily. "I've aboutgiven up all hope of ever seeing any better days. But what brings youhere? I didn't expect ever to see you again."
"Now, Nell, don't talk that way," Helen protested. "You know--or maybeyou don't know it--that I would do anything in the world to help youout of this unhappy condition, but Dave's way of looking at thingsmakes it impossible. If you had any vitality I would urge you to leavehim and earn your own living."
"But I haven't any left, Helen," said the discouraged woman; "and Idon't believe I'll ever recover any. I've rested hope after hope onDave's assurances of his ability to make a success in life. Really heis a queer genius, and I don't use the word genius entirely withdisrespect. In some ways he's clever, very clever, but in other wayshe is the most impossible man you ever knew. I believe he isthoroughly honest, but he has no idea of the value of money or what itmeans to his family. I believe he is by far the strongest leader amongthe men, but it does neither him nor his family any good. Many a laborleader would make such power and position a source of revenue forhimself, but not Dave. Instead, half of his earnings, when he works,are devoted to the labor cause."
"How does he get such a hold on the miners?" Helen inquired.
"By talk, just talk, and really, I must admit he is the cleverestspeaker I ever heard. I've seen an audience of a thousand working menand women stand on their tiptoes and cheer him as if they would bursttheir lungs. I was proud of him on such occasions, but when we gothome to our stale bread and soup I could not help wondering if it wasnot all a dream and I had not just waked up to the reality of things."
"When will he be home?"
"I wish I could tell you," the woman said, helplessly. "He may be herein five minutes and he may not come before 12 or 1 o'clock tonight."
"Right here is where the holiday charity work of the Flamingo CampFire begins," she told herself. Then aloud she added:
"I haven't had much to eat since morning, couldn't eat much this noonin my condition of mind, and I'm hungry; what have you in the housefor a Sunday evening lunch, Nell?"
"Not much, Helen," was the reply. "Only a half a loaf of rye bread andsome corn molasses. The children used to be very fond of that, butthey've had it so often since the strike began, that they're almostsick of it."
"Is there any store open near here where I can go and buy something?"
"There's a bakery and delicatessen over on the street where the carline runs. It's probably open now."
"Will I find a drug store over there, too? I want to use thetelephone."
"Yes, you'll find a drug store on that street, a block north."
"I'll go at once and you set the table while I'm gone. We'll have afeast that will delight the hearts and stomachs of these little ones."
"God bless you, Helen," were the last words that fell on her ears asshe went out.
"I must call up Marion and tell her where I am," she mused as shehastened toward the drug store. "I would have told her where I wasgoing before I left, but I was afraid she wouldn't let me go. Besides,I don't feel like telling her everything yet."
A few minutes later she was in the drug store applying for permissionto use the telephone.
"The phone is out of order," the druggist replied.
"Oh," Helen exclaimed in disappointment. "Where is there another inthe neighborhood?"
"There is none within half a mile that I know of, except in thesaloons," was the reply.
"I can't go there," the girl said desperately. "And I must have atelephone soon. Won't yours be fixed before long?"
"I hope so," said the druggist. "I've sent in a call for a repair man.Can't you come back in an hour or two?"
"Yes, I think so," Helen said, turning to go. "I do hope it isrepaired then, because it's very important."
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