Cast Adrift. Arthur Timothy Shay

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СКАЧАТЬ it’s done. Sam’s got a backer—a man that puts up the money. Sam only sells for his backer. When there’s a hit, the backer pays.”

      “Who’s Sam’s backer, as you call him?”

      “Couldn’t get him to tell; tried him hard, but he was close as an oyster. Drives in the Park and wears a two thousand dollar diamond pin; he let that out. So he’s good for the hits. Sam always puts the money down, fair and square.”

      “Very well; you get the policy, and do it right off, Pinky, or the money’ll slip through your fingers.”

      “All right,” answered Pinky as she folded the slip of paper containing the lucky rows. “Never you fear. I’ll be at Sam McFaddon’s in ten minutes after I leave here.”

      “And be sure,” said Mrs. Bray, “to look after the baby to-night, and see that it doesn’t perish with cold; the air’s getting sharp.”

      “It ought to have something warmer than cotton rags on its poor little body,” returned Pinky. “Can’t you get it some flannel? It will die if you don’t.”

      “I sent it a warm petticoat last week,” said Mrs. Bray.

      “You did?”

      “Yes; I bought one at a Jew shop, and had it sent to the woman.”

      “Was it a nice warm one?”

      “Yes.”

      Pinky drew a sigh. “I saw the poor baby last night; hadn’t anything on but dirty cotton rags. It was lying asleep in a cold cellar on a little heap of straw. The woman had given it something, I guess, by the way it slept. The petticoat had gone, most likely, to Sam McFaddon’s. She spends everything she can lay her hands on in policies and whisky.”

      “She’s paid a dollar a week for taking care of the baby at night and on Sundays,” said Mrs. Bray.

      “It wouldn’t help the baby any if she got ten dollars,” returned Pinky. “It ought to be taken away from her.”

      “But who’s to do that? Sally Long sold it to the two beggar women, and they board it out. I have no right to interfere; they own the baby, and can do as they please with it.”

      “It could be got to the almshouse,” said Pinky; “it would be a thousand times better off.”

      “It mustn’t go to the almshouse,” replied Mrs. Bray; “I might lose track of it, and that would never do.”

      “You’ll lose track of it for good and all before long, if you don’t get it out of them women’s bands. No baby can hold out being begged with long; it’s too hard on the little things. For you know how it is, Fan; they must keep ‘em half starved and as sick as they will bear without dying right off, so as to make ‘em look pitiful. You can’t do much at begging with a fat, hearty-looking baby.”

      “What’s to be done about it?” asked Mrs. Bray. “I don’t want that baby to die.”

      “Would its mother know it if she saw it?” asked Pinky.

      “No; for she never set eyes on it.”

      “Then, if it dies, get another baby, and keep track of that. You can steal one from a drunken mother any night in the week. I’ll do it for you. One baby is as good as another.”

      “It will be safer to have the real one,” replied Mrs. Bray. “And now, Pinky that you have put this thing into my head, I guess I’ll commission you to get the baby away from that woman.”

      “All right!”

      “But what are we to do with it? I can’t have it here.”

      “Of course you can’t. But that’s easily managed, if your’re willing to pay for it.”

      “Pay for it?”

      “Yes; if it isn’t begged with, and made to pay its way and earn something into the bargain, it’s got to be a dead weight on somebody. So you see how it is, Fan. Now, if you’ll take a fool’s advice, you’ll let ‘it go to the almshouse, or let it alone to die and get out of its misery as soon as possible. You can find another baby that will do just as well, if you should ever need one.”

      “How much would it cost, do you think, to have it boarded with some one who wouldn’t abuse it? She might beg with it herself, or hire it out two or three times a week. I guess it would stand that.”

      “Beggars don’t belong to the merciful kind,” answered Pinky; “there’s no trusting any of them. A baby in their hands is never safe. I’ve seen ‘em brought in at night more dead than alive, and tossed on a dirty rag-heap to die before morning. I’m always glad when they’re out of their misery, poor things! The fact is, Fan, if you expect that baby to live, you’ve got to take it clean out of the hands of beggars.”

      “What could I get it boarded for outright?” asked Mrs. Bray.

      “For ‘most anything, ‘cording to how it’s done. But why not, while you’re about it, bleed the old lady, its grandmother, a little deeper, and take a few drops for the baby?”

      “Guess you’re kind o’ right about that, Fan; anyhow, we’ll make a start on it. You find another place for the brat.”

      “‘Greed; when shall I do it?”

      “The sooner, the better. It might die of cold any night in that horrible den. Ugh!”

      “I’ve been in worse places. Bedlow street is full of them, and so is Briar street and Dirty alley. You don’t know anything about it.”

      “Maybe not, and maybe I don’t care to know. At present I want to settle about this baby. You’ll find another place for it?”

      “Yes.”

      “And then steal it from the woman who has it now?”

      “Yes; no trouble in the world. She’s drunk every night,” answered Pinky Swett, rising to go.

      “You’ll see me to-morrow?” said Mrs. Bray.

      “Oh yes.”

      “And you won’t forget about the policies?”

      “Not I. We shall make a grand hit, or I’m a fool. Day-day!” Pinky waved her hand gayly, and then retired.

      CHAPTER VI

      A COLD wet drizzling rain was beginning to fall when Pinky Swett emerged from the house. Twilight was gathering drearily. She drew her thin shawl closely, and shivered as the east wind struck her with a chill.

      At hurried walk of five or ten minutes brought her to a part of the town as little known to its citizens generally as if it were in the centre of Africa—a part of the town where vice, crime, drunkenness and beggary herd together in the closest and most shameless contact; where men and women, living in all foulness, and more like wild beasts than human beings, prey greedily upon each other, hurting, depraving and marring God’s image in all over whom they can get power or influenced—a very hell upon the earth!—at part of the town where theft and robbery and murder are plotted, and from which prisons and almshouses draw their chief population.

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