Loud cries of encouragement broke from the
supporters, and Geordie and Nellie heard all these--even the plaintive
wail of a child crying in a house a few doors farther up the "row," and
the mother's attempts to soothe it into forgetfulness of its temporary
pain or disappointment.
The little apartment seemed to have become suddenly cheerless. Nellie
felt the silence most oppressive, for she was wondering how he was
taking it all. Soon, however, he rose and reached for his cap. Looking
at his wife with eyes that set all her fears at rest--for she saw pride
in them, pride in her and the way she had acted--he said:--
"Thank ye, Nellie; ye are a' the woman I always thocht ye was, an' I'll
see that nae dirty brute ever again gets the chance to insult ye," and
he was out of the door before she could question him further.
Geordie went straight to where Walker lived and knocked at the door. A
girl of fourteen came in answer to his knock, for Walker was a widower,
his wife having died shortly after the birth of their only child.
"Is yer faither in?" enquired Geordie quietly, hardly able to control
the raging anger in his heart.
"No, he's no' in," replied the girl.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82