le and everything was still. Betty Harris had a
quick sense of pain. Mrs. Seabury was kind to her! She had been so kind
that first day, when they brought her in out of the hot sun, and she had
stumbled on the stairs and sobbed out--Mrs. Seabury had picked her up
and carried her up the stairs and comforted her... and told her what it
meant--these strange harsh men seizing her in the open sunshine, as they
swept past--covering her mouth with hard hands and hurrying her out of
the city to this stifling place. She loved Mrs. Seabury. Perhaps they
would put her in prison... and _never_ let her out--and Mollie would not
get well. The child gave a little, quick sob, in her thought, and lay
very still. Mollie had been good once, and wicked men had hurt her...
and now her mother could not help her.... But Mr. Achilles said--yes--he
said it--no one should hurt her.... And with the thought of the Greek
she lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night.... There
was a long, light call somewhere across the plain, a train of heavy
Pullmans pushing through the night--the sound came to the child like a
whiff of breath, and passed away... and the crickets chirped--high and
shrill. In the next room, the breathing grew loud, and louder, in long,
even beats. Mrs. Seabury was asleep! Betty Harris sat up in bed, her
little hands clinched fast at her side. Then she lay down again--and
waited... and the breathing in the next room grew loud, and regular,
and full.... Mrs. Seabury was very tired! And Betty Harris listened,
and slipped down from the bed, and groped for her shoes--and lifted them
like a breath--and stepped high across the floor, in the dim room. It
was a slow flight... tuned to the long-drawn, falling breath of the
sleeper--that did not break by a note--not even when the brown hand
released the latch and a little, sharp click fell on the air.... "Wake
up, Mrs. Seabury! Wake up--for Mollie's sake--wake up!" the latch said.
But the sleeper did not stir--only the long, regular, dream-filled,
droning sleep. And the child crept down the stair--across the kitchen
and reached the other door. She was not afraid now--one more door! The
men would not hear her--they were asleep--Mrs. Seabury was asleep--and
her fingers turned the key softly and groped to the bolt above--and
pushed at it--hard--and fell back--and groped for it again--and
tugged... little beads of sweat were coming on the brown forehead. She
drew the back of her hand