Page:Harold Titus--Timber.djvu/65

Rh in the night she lost her head. She's—just given up."

Helen looked about the small room. It was well ordered and with a minimum of material it had been given an air of comfort, of stability.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Nothin' unless she—"

From behind a closed door came a stirring and a weak, muffled voice:

"Thad?"

He moved quickly. "Yes, Jenny," opening the door.

"Who's there?"

"Miss Foraker."

"Oh—I'm so glad."

Helen stepped to the door. Parker took the oil lamp from its bracket and went into the bedroom where a very slight, very pale girl lay under the patch-work quilt. She was very young, and the pain, the pallor, the weakness reflected in her face could not cover completely her girlhood. When her blue eyes rested on Helen's face she tried to smile, but the result was feeble. One of the thin white hands on the cover stirred.

"I'm so glad," she whispered, "so glad you've come. I've thought about you so much—I wanted to send for you; I think you, maybe, can understand about us better than any one else."

Helen sat down beside the bed. Parker placed the lamp on the table and stood looking down at the two women, lips loose and hands limp at his sides. In the other room Taylor sat quietly near the roaring cook stove, in the shaft of light which came from the bed chamber.

"I didn't know you were so sick or I'd have been here before," Helen said very gently. The other tried to smile