Calvary Alley Part 47

In her first weeks of chagrin and mortification she had sought refuge in thoughts of Mac. She had slept with his unanswered letters under her pillow and clung to the memory of his ardent eyes, his gay laughter, the touch of his lips on her hands and cheeks. Had Mac come home that Christmas, her doom would have been sealed. The light by which she steered had suddenly gone out, and she could no longer distinguish the warning coast lights from the harbor lights of home.

But Mac had not come at Christmas, neither had he come in the summer, and Nance's emotional storm was succeeded by an equally intolerable calm.

Back and forth from factory to boarding home she trudged day by day, and on Sunday she divided her wages with Mrs. Snawdor, on the condition that she should have a vote in the management of family affairs. By this plan Lobelia and the twins were kept at school, and Mr. Snawdor's feeble efforts at decent living were staunchly upheld.

When the epidemic broke out in Calvary Alley, and Mrs. Snawdor signaled for help, Nance responded to the cry with positive enthusiasm. Here was something stimulating at last. There was immediate work to be done, and she was the one to do it.

As she hurried up the steps of Number One, she found young Dr. Isaac Lavinski superintending the construction of a temporary door.

"You can't come in here!" he called to her, peremptorily. "We're in quarantine. I've got everybody out I can. But enough people have been exposed to it already to spread the disease all over the city. Three more cases to-night. Mrs. Smelts' symptoms are very suspicious. Dr. Adair is coming himself at nine o'clock to give instructions. It's going to be a tussle all right!"

Nance looked at him in amazement. He spoke with more enthusiasm than he had ever shown in the whole course of his life. His narrow, sallow face was full of keen excitement. Little old Ike, who had hidden under the bed in the old days whenever a fight was going on, was facing death with the eagerness of a valiant soldier on the eve of his first battle.

"I'm going to help you, Ike!" Nance cried instantly. "I've come to stay 'til it's over."

But Isaac barred the way.

"You can't come in, I tell you! I've cleared the decks for action. Not another person but the doctor and nurse are going to pa.s.s over this threshold!"

"Look here, Ike Lavinski," cried Nance, indignantly, "you know as well as me that there are things that ought to be done up there at the Snawdors'!"

"They'll have to go undone," said Isaac, firmly.

Nance wasted no more time in futile argument. She waited for an opportune moment when Ike's back was turned; then she slipped around the corner of the house and threaded her way down the dark pa.s.sage, until she reached the fire-escape. There were no lights in the windows as she climbed past them, and the place seemed ominously still.

At the third platform she scrambled over a wash-tub and a dozen plaster casts of Pocahontas,--Mr. Snawdor's latest venture in industry,--and crawled through the window into the kitchen. It was evident at a glance that Mrs. Snawdor had at last found that long-talked-of day off and had utilized it in cleaning up. The room didn't look natural in its changed condition. Neither did Mrs. Snawdor, sitting in the gloom in an att.i.tude of deep dejection. At sight of Nance at the window, she gave a cry of relief.

"Thank the Lord, you've come!" she said. "Can you beat this? Havin' to climb up the outside of yer own house like a fly! They've done sent Fidy to the pest-house, an' scattered the other childern all over the neighborhood, an' they got me fastened up here, like a hen in a coop!"

"How is he?" whispered Nance, glancing toward the inner room.

"Ain't a thing the matter with him, but the lumbago. Keeps on complainin'

of a pain in his back. I never heard of such a hullabaloo about nothin'

in all my life. They'll be havin' me down with smallpox next. How long you goin' to be here?"

Nance, taking off her hat and coat, announced that she had come to stay.

Mrs. Snawdor heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well, if you'll sorter keep a eye on him, I believe I'll step down an' set with Mis' Smelts fer a spell. I ain't been off the place fer two days."

"But wait a minute! Where's Uncle Jed? And Mr. Demry?"

"They 're done bounced too! Anybody tell you 'bout yer Uncle Jed's patent? They say he stands to make as much as a hundern dollars offen it.

They say--"

"I don't care what they say!" cried Nance, distractedly. "Tell me, did the children take clean clothes with 'em? Did you see if Uncle Jed had his sweater? Have you washed the bedclothes that was on Fidy's bed?"

Mrs. Snawdor shook her head impatiently.

"I didn't, an' I ain't goin' to! That there Ike Lavinski ain't goin' to run me! He took my Fidy off to that there pest-house where I bet they operate her. He'll pay up fer this, you see if he don't!"

She began to cry, but as Nance was too much occupied to give audience to her grief, she betook herself to the first floor to a.s.sist in the care of Mrs. Smelts. Illness in the abode of another has a romantic flavor that home-grown maladies lack.

When Dr. Adair and Isaac Lavinski made their rounds at nine o'clock, they found Nance bending over a steaming tub, washing out a heavy comfort.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Isaac in stern surprise.

"Manicuring my finger-nails," she said, with an impudent grin, as she straightened her tired shoulders. Then seeing Dr. Adair, she blushed and wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n.

"You don't remember me, Doctor, do you? I helped you with Uncle Jed Burks at the signal tower that time when the lightning struck him."

He looked her over, his glance traveling from her frank, friendly face to her strong bare arms.

"Why, yes, I do. You and your brother had been to some fancy-dress affair. I remember your red shoes. It isn't every girl of your age that could have done what you did that night. Have you been vaccinated?"

"Twice. Both took."

"She's got no business being here, sir," Isaac broke in hotly. "I told her to keep out."

"Doctor! Listen at me!" pleaded Nance, her hand on his coat sleeve.

Honest to goodness, I _got_ to stay. Mrs. Snawdor don't believe it's smallpox. She'll slip the children in when you ain't looking and go out herself and see the neighbors. Don't you see that somebody's got to be here that understands?"

"The girl's right, Lavinski," said Dr. Adair. "She knows the ropes here, and can be of great service to us. The nurse downstairs can't begin to do it all. Now let us have a look at the patient."

Little Mr. Snawdor was hardly worth looking at. He lay rigid, like a dried twig, with his eyes shut tight, and his mouth shut tight, and his hands clenched tighter still. It really seemed as if this time Mr.

Snawdor was going to make good his old-time threat to quit.

Dr. Adair gave the necessary instructions; then he turned to go. He had been watching Nance, as she moved about the room carrying out his orders, and at the door he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"How old are you, my girl?" he asked.

"Twenty."

"We need girls like you up at the hospital. Have you ever thought of taking the training?"

"Me? I haven't got enough spondulicks to take a street-car ride."

"That part can be arranged if you really want to go into the work.

Think it over."

Then he and the impatient Isaac continued on their rounds, and Nance went back to her work. But the casual remark, let fall by Dr. Adair, had set her ambition soaring. Her imagination flared to the project. Snawdor's flat extended itself into a long ward; poor little Mr. Snawdor, who was hardly half a man, became a dozen; and Miss Molloy, in a becoming uniform, moved in and out among the cots, a ministering angel of mercy.

For the first time since Dan Lewis's marriage, her old courage and zest for life returned, and when Mrs. Snawdor came in at midnight, she found her sitting beside her patient with shining eyes full of waking dreams.

"Mis' Smelts is awful bad," Mrs. Snawdor reported, looking more serious than she had heretofore. "Says she wants to see you before the nurse wakes up. Seems like she's got somethin' on her mind."

Nance hurried into her coat and went out into the dark, damp hall. Long black roaches scurried out of her way as she descended the stairs. In the hall below the single gas-jet flared in the draught, causing ghostly shadows to leap out of corners and then skulk fearfully back again. Nance was not afraid, but a sudden sick loathing filled her. Was she never going to be able to get away from it all? Was that long arm of duty going to stretch out and find her wherever she went, and drag her back to this noisome spot? Were all her dreams and ambitions to die, as they had been born, in Calvary Alley?

Mrs. Smelts had been moved into an empty room across the hall from her own crowded quarters, and as Nance pushed open the door, she lifted a warning hand and beckoned.