VII
A LILY IN THE SLUMS
Rose-Marie started back from the child with a sickening sense of shock.All at once she realized the reason why Bennie's eyes grew tender at themention of his little sister--why Ella forgot anger and suspicion whenLily came into the room. She understood why Mrs. Volsky's dull voice heldlove and sorrow. And yet, as she looked at the small girl, it seemedalmost incredible that she should be so afflicted. Deaf and dumb andblind! Never to hear the voices of those who loved her, never to see thebeautiful things of life, never--even--to speak! Rose-Marie choked back asob, and glanced across the child's cloud of pale golden hair at Ella. Astheir eyes met she knew that they were, in some strange way, friends.
With a sudden, overwhelming pity, her arms reached out again to Lily. Asshe gathered the child close she was surprised at the slenderness of thetiny figure, at the neatness of the faded gingham frock that blended intone with the great, sightless eyes. All at once she remembered whatBennie had said to her, the day before, in the park.
"I love Lily," he had told her, "I wouldn't let nobody hurt Lily! If anyone--even Pa, so much as spoke mean to her--I'd kill him...."
Glancing about the room, at the faces of the others, she sensed a silentecho of Bennie's words. Mrs. Volsky, who would keep neither her flat norherself neat, quite evidently saw to it that Lily's little dress wasspotless. Ella, whose temper would flare up at the slightest word, caredfor the child with the tender efficiency of a professional nurse;Bennie's face, as he looked at his tiny sister, had taken on a cherubicsoftness. And Jim ... Rose-Marie glanced at Jim and was startled out ofher reflections. For Jim was not looking at Lily. His gaze was fixed uponher own face with an intensity that frightened her. With a sudden impulseshe spoke directly to him.
"You must be very kind to this little sister of yours," she told him."She needs every bit of love and affection and consideration that herfamily can give her!"
Jim, his gaze still upon her face, shrugged his shoulders. But beforehe could answer Ella had come a step closer to Rose-Marie. Her eyeswere flashing.
"Jim," she said, "ain't got any love or kindness or consideration in him!Jim thinks that Lily ain't got any more feelin's than a puppy dog--'causeshe can't answer back. Oh," in response to the question in Rose-Marie'sface, "oh, he'd never put a finger on her--not that! But he don't speakkind to her, like we do. It's enough fer him that she can't hear th'words he lays his tongue to. Even Pa--"
Suddenly, as if in answer to his spoken name, there came a scufflingsound from the corner where Pa was sleeping. All at once the empty bottledropped from the unclenched hand, the mouth fell open in a prodigiousyawn, the eyes became wide, burned-out wells of drunkenness. And as shewatched, Rose-Marie saw the room cleared in an amazing fashion. She heardMrs. Volsky's terrified whisper, "He's wakin' up!" She heard Jim's harshlaugh; she saw Ella, with a fiercely maternal sweep of her strong arms,gather the little Lily close to her breast and dart toward the innerroom. And then, as she stood dazedly watching the mountain of soddenflesh that was Pa rear itself to a sitting posture, and then to astanding one, she felt a hot little hand touch her own.
"We better clear out," said the voice of Bennie. "We better clear outpretty quick! Pa's awful bad, sometimes, when he's just wakin' up!"
With a quickness not unlike the bump at the end of afalling-through-space dream, Rose-Marie felt herself drawn from theroom--heard the door close with a slam behind her. And then she washurrying after the shadowy form of Bennie, down the five rickety flightsof stairs--past the same varied odours and the same appalling sounds thatshe had noticed on the way up!