The Scarecrow and Other Stories Part 28

"Yes, yes, Nannie. What was it you wanted?"

The woman stood quite rigid.

"You was there, Miss--this afternoon?"

"Yes--"

"Did you notice anything, Miss?"

She drew a deep breath.

"What d'you mean, Nannie? Nannie, what?"

"It's him, Miss. It was last night--"

The woman broke off.

"Yes, Nannie;" Genevieve Evans urged.

"I don't rightly know how to tell it to you, Miss. It's hard to find the words to say it in. He'd kill me if he knew I come here and told you.

But you got to know. I can't keep it to myself. He's been fierce of late. What with making so much more money. And the drinking, Miss. And the women. The women, they're there all hours, now."

"My mother's house!" Genevieve Evans said it uncertainly.

"Yes, Miss," the woman went on. "And it was almost as bad when she lived."

"I know, Nannie. I've always known!"

"But last night, Miss; after they'd gone. I was asleep, Miss Genevieve.

It woke me. It was awful. Plain horrid, Miss."

"What--Nannie?"

"The scream, Miss--A shriek of pain."

"No,--no, Nannie!" Genevieve Evans interrupted wildly. "Don't say it!

Don't!"

The woman looked at her wonderingly.

"Why, Miss Genevieve--Poor, little lamb."

"Nannie, Nannie." She made a tremendous effort to control herself. "What was it you were going to say?"

"The scream, Miss. In the night. I rushed down. I knocked at his door.

He wouldn't let me in. He was moaning, Miss. And cursing. And moaning.

He was swearing about a knife. I listened, Miss--at the keyhole. I was scared. He kept cursing and moaning about a knife; about his arm--"

"Nannie--"

She whispered the word beneath her breath. "Yes, Miss. Cut in the arm.

He would have it that way. And he wouldn't let me in. I waited for hours. And this morning I went into his room myself. He was in his shirt-sleeves. I pretended I wanted the linen for the wash. I was looking for blood, Miss. Not a drop did I find. Not a pin p.r.i.c.k stain.

But I seen him bandaging his arm; right in front of me he did it. And then I seen him rip the bandage off."

"Nannie--"

"It's his reason I fear for, Miss. He turns to me and asks me if I can see the cut."

"Yes? Yes, Nannie?"

"He shows me his arm. And, Miss--"

The woman stopped abruptly.

"Nannie--what? What?"

Genevieve Evans' hands had gone up to her throat.

"There wasn't a scratch;--not--a--scratch!"

"Oh--" She breathed.

"And that's why I came here, Miss. To ask if he'd said anything of it to you. Or if--if you'd noticed anything, Miss."

Genevieve Evans waited a full second before she answered:

"No, Nannie. He wouldn't have told me. I didn't notice anything. I wasn't there very long. You see I only went to ask him to let me get away. Out in the country--by myself. I wanted the money to go. He and--and Mr. Evans never give me money, Nannie. Just things--all the things, I want. Only I'm tired of things. I don't quite know what to do. When--I think about it I get very angry. I was very angry. Last night I was very angry! I've such funny ideas when I'm angry, Nannie. I mustn't get angry again. But I've got--to--get--away."

"I don't blame you, Miss Genevieve, for being angry. You've been an angel all your life; all your life pent up like--like a saint--with--with--devils."

"You--don't--blame--me--Nannie?"

"No, Lamb. Not your Nannie. Your Nannie knows what it's been like for you. I know him, Miss Genevieve. I know he didn't give you the money."

"No, Nannie. He laughed at me. Laughed--"

"He's a beast! That's what he is, Miss. He should have give it to you.

And him going away himself. He was telling me only to-day. Into the country."

"What?"

"Oh, Miss. I hate to say such things to you. He's going with that black-haired woman;--the latest one, she is. He thinks she works too hard. He's taking her off for a rest. Is anything the matter? Aren't you well, darling?"

Genevieve Evans swayed dizzily for a second her one hand reaching out blindly before her.

The woman came quickly and took the hand between both of her hands and stroked it.

"Nannie, I'm sick--sick!"