Ester Ried Yet Speaking | Page 9

throat; I saw her looking at him most uncommon sharp, when she was
telling that biggest story of hers, about the serpent that swallowed. Dirk
he thinks he's been swallowed by one of 'em; he feels it choking in his
throat."
"No," said another, "that ain't it; Dirk's a-going to get pious. That's his
last dodge; I've seen the spell coming on, for some time. Didn't you see
him pick up that there Bible and lay it on the seat the other Sunday,
after Jerry's elbow knocked it off by mistake? I've been scared about
Dirk ever since; and now he won't go to Poke's! It's a bad sign. I say,
Dirk, maybe there's going to be a prayer-meeting down your way, and
you wouldn't mind letting us come?"
They expected him to laugh, but his face grew blacker than before, and
at last he said, in very significant tones:--
"You better hold up there, Scrawly, if you don't want to try the depth of
that gutter."
"Leave him be," said Nimble Dick, quickly; "he's going into one of his
tantrums. When he begins like that, there's no end to the fighting that's
in him; and I don't want a row now,--it's too early in the day; besides, I
know something that's better fun. You fellows come along with me,

and let him go."
As this was said in a sort of undertone as Dirk strode on ahead; and
when, at another corner, he dashed down it, leaving them all, there was
no call after him. He was free to go where he would, and for reasons
that he himself could not have explained he chose that it should be
home,--that is, the place which he called home. It might not meet your
ideas of what a spot so named should be. The road to it led through one
of the meanest portions of the city. Each foot of the way the houses
seemed to grow more squalid looking, and the streets filthier. The
particular alley down which he dived at last was narrower and blacker
than any yet passed, and the cellar door which he pushed open let him
into the meanest-looking house in the row,--a long, low, dark room. In
one corner there was the remnant of a stove, braced up by bricks and
stones, but no fire was burning therein, though the day was cold.
Furniture there was none, unless the usual rickety table and two broken
chairs could be called by that name. A door was ajar that led into an
inner cellar, and a glimpse of piles of offensive looking rags, that were
called "bed-clothes" by the family, might have given you an idea of
what their home life was, as hardly any other phase of it can. The rags
were not all in the further cellar, however; a gay patch-work quilt, or at
least one that had once been gay, but from which bits of black cotton
now oozed in every direction, seemed to have curled itself in a heap
against the one window. However, it moved soon after Dirk opened the
door, and showed itself to be more than a quilt. Inside was a young girl,
the quilt wrapped around her closely, drawn up about her face and head,
as if she would hide all but her eyes within, and try to get rid of
shivering.
"You home?" she said, her tones expressing surprise, but at the same
time indifference. "What is it for?"
"Because I wanted to come. Hasn't a fellow a right to come home if he
wants to?"
"Of course; and it's such a lovely home, and you are so fond of it, no
one need wonder at your coming in the middle of the day."

The sentence was sarcastic enough, but the tones were hardly so; they
expressed too much indifference even for sarcasm.
Dirk surveyed her thoughtfully; he seemed to have no answer ready. In
fact, his face wore almost a startled air, and really the thought which
presented itself for consideration was startling. Something about the
face of the girl, done up so grotesquely in her ragged quilt, suggested
the lady who had been his teacher at the Mission! Could one find a
sharper contrast than existed between these two? Yet Dirk, as he looked,
could not get away from it.
"What are you staring at?" the girl asked, presently, growing uneasy
over the fixedness of his gaze. "Do you see anything uncommon about
me?"
"Where's mother?" he asked, dropping his eyes, and turning from her.
"In there, asleep. You needn't talk quite so loud; it won't hurt her to get
a bit of rest. She sat up till morning, poking at your old coat."
Dirk looked down at it thoughtfully. There had been an attempt to
make it