Ethel Morton at Rose House | Page 7

'Tis
glad I'll be to be doing it!" and a ghost of a smile fluttered her lips.
Outside of the bedroom door Mrs. Emerson asked for an explanation
and the others for her advice.
"I don't see how we can tell what we can do until we pull her through
this trouble and find out what the poor soul wants to do herself."
"She said she came out from New York to look for work in the
country."
"Then we must find her work in the country. But the first thing for us to
attend to is to get her poor body into such a condition that she can work.
She's a sweet looking young woman. I'm glad you brought her home,
Father," and between Mr. and Mrs. Emerson there passed a smile of
such understanding as makes beautiful the lives of people long and

happily married.

CHAPTER III
THE FARMHOUSE
It took a long time to bring Moya Murphy and little Sheila back to
health and strength, but it was only a day or two before Moya was able
to tell her story to Mrs. Emerson.
She was twenty-five, she said, and she had come to America with her
father and mother five years before. The New World had not given a
warm welcome to the new arrivals, for both of the parents had fallen ill
with pneumonia only a few weeks after they landed, and both died
within a few days of each other.
Moya, left alone and grieving, had soon after married Patrick Murphy,
a lad she had known in the old country. A happy life they led,
especially after little Sheila came to bless them.
When the declaration of war in Europe upset business conditions in
America, Patrick lost his "job" and all summer long he walked the
streets, working for a day now and then, but never securing a
permanent position, and always growing weaker and less able to work
because he was underfed. The little three-room flat that had been such a
joy to them, had long been given up and they lived and ate and slept in
one room, and thanked their stars that they had a landlord who did not
insist on being paid regularly, as did some they knew about who put
their tenants out on the street if the rent was not forthcoming promptly.
"Somehow it's the sudden things that happens to me," said Moya to
Mrs. Emerson. She was sitting on the latticed back porch of the
Emersons' house, her fingers busy shelling peas for Kate, the old cook
who had lived with Mrs. Emerson ever since she was married. "Patrick
was crossing the street--'tis only six weeks ago, but it seems years! An
automobile with one of the shrieking horns screamed at him. 'Twas the

policeman on the crossing told me. Patrick was light on his feet always,
but that was when he had enough to eat ivery day. He thried to jump
back and his foot slipped and he fell under the car and it killed him."
She sobbed and Mrs. Emerson and Kate wiped their eyes.
"Two days it was before I knew it; there was nothing on his clothes to
tell who he was, and I only found out when he didn't come home and I
went to the police and they took me to the Morgue and there he lay.
They gave me twenty dollars--the policemen did. They collected it
among themselves."
"Didn't they arrest the driver of the car?"
"'Twas a light car and it sped away before any one saw the number."
Kate Flanigan gave a grunt of disgust at the brutality of the driver.
"I gave the landlord half the money the policemen gave me. I owed it
for the rint. Then I set out to hunt work. Ivery day I walked and walked
and ivery day I carried the baby, for where could I leave her? Nobody
wanted a girl who wasn't trained to do anything, and even if I had been
able to do something well they wanted no baby. There's no room for
babies when you have to work," she said bitterly.
"I want you to feel that you are safe here, you and Sheila," said Mrs.
Emerson gently. "Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Smith and I have been talking
it over with Kate, and this is what we've planned, provided you agree."
Moya gathered up her baby jealously in her lap.
"It will keep you and Sheila together," said Mrs. Emerson quickly,
noticing her gesture, and smiling approvingly as Moya at once let the
child slide off her lap on to the floor where she sat contentedly playing
with some of the pods of the peas that had fallen from the pan.
"Perhaps Kate has told you that we