Every Soul Hath Its Song Part 28

"I could have paid it back, Renie; the system was all right, but--"

"Four thousand! Four thousand!"

"He--he was all for detaining me right away, Renie; sending for pa, and--and sicking the law right on his--his own sister's son. On my knees for three hours I had to beg, Renie--on my knees, for ma's sake and your sake and pa's--just for a little time I begged. A little time was all I begged. He don't care nothing for blood. I--I had to beg him, Renie, till--till I fainted."

"What shall we do, Izzy? What shall we do?"

"I squeezed two weeks' time out of him, Renie. Two weeks to pay it back or he puts the law on me--two weeks; and I got it from him like blood from a turnip. Oh, my G.o.d, Renie, four thousand in two weeks--four thousand in two weeks!"

He fell in a half-swoon against her skirts. Out of her arms she made a pillow of mercy and drew his head down to her bosom; and tears, bitter with salt, mingled with his, and her heart's blood buzzed in her brain.

"Izzy, Izzy! What have you done?"

"I can't pay it back, Renie. Where could I get half that much? I can't pay back four dollars, much less four thousand. I can't! I can't!"

"Four thousand!"

"We gotta keep it from the old man and ma, Renie. Let 'em kill me if they want to; but we gotta keep it from him and ma."

"Four thousand! Four thousand!"

In the half-light of the room, with the late sunshine pressing warm against the drawn green shades, the remote shouts of children coming to them through the quiet, and the whir of a lawn-mower off somewhere, they crouched, these two, as though they would shut their ears to the flapping of vultures' wings.

"They can't do anything to you, Izzy."

"What'll we do, Renie? What'll we do?"

"We got to find a way, Izzy."

"They can't send me up for it, Renie--say they can't!"

"No--no, dearie."

"I ain't crooked like that! It was my own uncle. They can't send me up, Renie. I'll kill myself first! I'll kill myself first!"

"Izzy, ain't you ashamed?" But it was as though the odor of death found its way to her nostrils, nauseating her. "Let me think. Let me think just a minute. Let me think." She rammed the ends of her fists tight against her eyes until Catherine wheels spun and spun against her lids.

"Let me think just a minute."

"There's n.o.body, Renie--n.o.body--n.o.body--no way."

"Four--thousand!"

"No-body, I tell you, Renie. But I'll kill myself before I--"

Renie stood up. "Izzy! I will!"

He was whimpering frankly against her skirt. After a while she raised her face. Jeanne d'Arc might have looked like that when she beheld the vision.

"Squash!"

"What?"

"Squash! It's like he was sent out of heaven!"

"He--he ain't--"

"He's coming to-night--to ask me, Izzy. You know what I mean? Don't you see? Don't you see?"

"I--"

"Don't you see, Izzy? He's going to ask me, and--and I'm going to do it!"

"Oh, my G.o.d! Renie, you can't do that for me if--You can't do that for me."

"He's got it, Izzy. I can get ten thousand out of him if I got to."

"But, Renie--"

"I--I can rush it through and--do it before two weeks, Izzy; and we got a way out, Izzy--we got a way. We got a way!"

She threw herself in a pa.s.sion of hysteria face downward on the bed and a tornado of weeping swept over her. Rooted, he stood as though face to face with an immense dawn, but with eyes that dared not see the light.

"Renie, I--can't! I--Renie, I can't let you do that for me if--if--I can't let you marry him for me if you don't--"

"'Sh-h-h!"

Mrs. Shongut's voice outside the door, querulous: "Renie!"

Silence.

"Re-nie!"

"Yes, mamma."

"Why you got your door locked?"

Silence.

"Huh?"

"I--I--"

"Come right away out in the dining-room. If you 'ain't got no more regards for your parents than not to stay home for supper, anyways you got to fix for the table the flowers what I brought home from market."

"Yes, mamma." She darted to her feet, drying the tears on her cheeks with the palm of her hand. "Coming, mamma." And she slipped through the door of her room, scarcely opening it.

In the dining-room, beside the white-spread table, Mrs. Shongut unwound a paper toot of pink carnations; but the flavor of her spirit was bitter and her thin, pressed-looking lips hung at the corners.