George Is 
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BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Janet IHack Collection 
 

 GEORGE'S MOTHER 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER 
 
 BY 
 
 STEPHEN CRANE 
 
 AUTHOK OF "THE RED BADGE OP COURAGE," 
 "THE BLACK RIDERS," ETC. 
 
 EDWARD ARNOLD 
 
 NEW YORK I LONDON 
 
 70 FIFTH AVENUE 3T BEDFORD STREET 
 
 1896 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1896 
 BY EDWARD ARNOLD 
 
 TROW DIRECTORY 
 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 
 
GEOKGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 IN the swirling rain that came at dusk 
 the broad avenue glistened with that 
 deep bluish tint which is so widely con- 
 demned when it is put into pictures. 
 There were long rows of shops, whose 
 fronts shone with full, golden light. 
 Here and there, from druggists' windows, 
 or from the red street-lamps that indi- 
 cated the positions of fire-alarm boxes, 
 a flare of uncertain, wavering crimson 
 was thrown upon the wet pavements. 
 
 The lights made shadows, in which 
 the buildings loomed with a new and 
 
8 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 tremendous massiveness, like castles and 
 fortresses. There were endless proces- 
 sions of people, mighty hosts, with um- 
 brellas waving, banner-like, over them. 
 Horse -cars, aglitter with new paint, 
 rumbled in steady array between the 
 pillars that supported the elevated rail- 
 road. The whole street resounded with 
 the tinkle of bells, the roar of iron-shod 
 wheels on the cobbles, the ceaseless 
 trample of the hundreds of feet. Above 
 all, too, could be heard the loud screams 
 of the tiny newsboys, who scurried in 
 all directions. Upon the corners, stand- 
 ing in from the dripping eaves, were 
 many loungers, descended from the 
 world that used to prostrate itself be- 
 fore pageantry. 
 
 A brown young man went along the 
 avenue. He held a tin lunch-pail un- 
 
QEORGE'S MOTHER. 9 
 
 der his arm in a manner that was evi- 
 dently uncomfortable. He was puffing 
 at a corn-cob pipe. His shoulders had 
 a self-reliant poise, and the hang of his 
 arms and the raised veins of his hands 
 showed him to be a man who worked 
 with his muscles. 
 
 As he passed a street-corner a man 
 in old clothes gave a shout of sur- 
 prise, and rushing impetuously forward, 
 grasped his hand. 
 
 "Hello, Kelcey, ol' boy," cried the 
 man in old clothes. "How's th' boy, 
 anyhow ? Where in thunder yeh been 
 fer th' last seventeen years? I'll be 
 hanged if you ain't th' last man I ever 
 expected t' see." 
 
 The brown youth put his pail to the 
 ground and grinned. " Well, if it ain't 
 ol' Charley Jones," he said, ecstatically 
 
10 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 shaking hands. "How are yeh, any- 
 how ? Where yeh been keepin' yer- 
 self ? I ain't seen yeh fer a year ? " 
 
 " Well, I should say so ! Why, th' 
 last time I saw you was up in 
 Handyville ! " 
 
 " Sure ! On Sunday, we " 
 
 " Sure ! Out at Bill Sickles's place. 
 Let's go get a drink ! " 
 
 They made toward a little glass-front- 
 ed saloon that sat blinking jovially at 
 the crowds. It engulfed them with a 
 gleeful motion of its two widely smil- 
 ing lips. 
 
 "What'llyeh take, Kelcey?" 
 " Oh, I guess I'll take a beer." 
 " Gimme little whiskey, John." 
 The two friends leaned against the 
 bar and looked with enthusiasm upon 
 each other. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 11 
 
 " Well, well, I'm thunderin' glad t' see 
 yeh," said Jones. 
 
 " Well, I guess," replied Kelcey. 
 " Here's to yeh, ol' man." 
 
 " Let 'er go." 
 
 They lifted their glasses, glanced 
 fervidly at each other, and drank. 
 
 " Yeh ain't changed much, on'y yeh've 
 growed like th' devil," said Jones, re- 
 flectively, as he put down his glass. 
 " I'd know yeh anywheres ! " 
 
 " Certainly yeh would," said Kelcey. 
 " An' I knew you, too, th' minute I saw 
 yeh. Yer changed, though ! " 
 
 "Yes," admitted Jones, with some 
 complacency, " I s'pose I am." He re- 
 garded himself in the mirror that multi- 
 plied the bottles on the shelf back of the 
 bar. He should have seen a grinning 
 face with a rather pink nose. His derby 
 
12 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 was perched carelessly on the back part 
 of his head. Two wisps of hair strag- 
 gled down over his hollow temples. 
 There was something very worldly and 
 wise about him. Life did not seem to 
 confuse him. Evidently he understood 
 its complications. His hand thrust 
 into his trousers' pocket, where he 
 jingled keys, and his hat perched back 
 on his head expressed a young man of 
 vast knowledge. His extensive ac- 
 quaintance with bartenders aided him 
 materially in this habitual expression 
 of wisdom. 
 
 Having finished he turned to the bar- 
 keeper. "John, has any of th' gang 
 been in t'-night yet ? " 
 
 "No not yet," said the barkeeper. 
 " Ol' Bleecker was aroun' this afternoon 
 about four. He said if I seen any of 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 13 
 
 th' boys t' tell 'em he'd be up t'-night if 
 he could get away. I saw Connor an' 
 that other fellah goin' down th' avenyeh 
 about an hour ago. I guess they'll be 
 back after awhile." 
 
 " This is th' hang-out fer a great 
 gang," said Jones, turning to Kelcey. 
 " They're a great crowd, I tell yeh. We 
 own th' place when we get started. 
 Come aroun' some night. Any night, 
 almost. T'-night, b' jiminy. They'll 
 almost all be here, an' I'd like t' in- 
 terduce yeh. They're a great gang! 
 Gre-e-at ! " 
 
 " I'd like teh," said Kelcey. 
 
 "Well, come ahead, then," cried the 
 other, cordially. "Ye'd like t' know 
 'em. It's an outa sight crowd. Come 
 aroun' t'-night ! " 
 
 " I will if I can." 
 
14 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 " Well, yell ain't got anything t' do, 
 have yeh ? " demanded Jones. " Well, 
 come along, then. Yeh might just as 
 well spend yer time with a good crowd 
 'a fellahs. An' it's a great gang. Great ! 
 Gre-e-at ! " 
 
 " Well, I must make fer home now, 
 anyhow," said Kelcey. " It's late as 
 blazes. What '11 yeh take this time, ol' 
 man ? " 
 
 " Gimme little more whiskey, John ! " 
 
 " Guess I'll take another beer ! " 
 
 Jones emptied the whiskey into his 
 
 large mouth and then put the glass 
 
 upon the bar. " Been in th' city long? " 
 
 he asked. " Um well, three years is a 
 
 good deal fer a slick man. Doin' well ? 
 
 Oh, well, nobody's doin' well these 
 
 days." He looked down mournfully 
 
 at his shabby clothes. " Father's dead. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 15 
 
 ain't 'ee ? Yeh don't say so ? Fell off 
 a scaffoldin', didn't 'ee ? I heard it 
 somewheres. Mother's livin', of course? 
 I thought she was. Fine ol' lady 
 fi-i-ne. Well, you're th' last of her 
 boys. Was five of yeh onct, wasn't 
 there ? I knew foiir m'self . Yes, five ! 
 I thought so. An' all gone but you, 
 hey? Well, you'll have t' brace up an' 
 be a comfort t' th' ol' mother. Well, 
 well, well, who would 'a thought that 
 on'y you'd be left out 'a all that mob 'a 
 tow-headed kids. Well, well, well, it's 
 a queer world, ain't it ? " 
 
 A contemplation of this thought 
 made him sad. He sighed and mood- 
 ily watched the other sip beer. 
 
 "Well, well, it's a queer world a 
 damn queer world." 
 
 "Yes," said Kelcey, "I'm th' on'y 
 
16 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 one left ! " There was an accent of dis- 
 comfort in his voice. He did not like 
 this dwelling upon a sentiment that 
 was connected with himself. 
 
 " How is th' ol j lady, anyhow ? " con- 
 tinued Jones. " Th' last time I remem- 
 ber she was as spry as a little ol' cricket, 
 an' was helpeltin' aroun' th' country 
 lecturin' before W. C. T. TJ.'s an' one 
 thing an' another." 
 
 " Oh, she's pretty well," said Kelcey. 
 "An 5 outa five boys you're th' on'y 
 one she's got left? Well, well have 
 another drink before yeh go." 
 " Oh, I guess I've had enough." 
 A wounded expression came into 
 Jones's eyes. " Oh, come on," he said. 
 " Well, I'll take another beer ! " 
 " Gimme little more whiskey, John ! " 
 When they had concluded this cere- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 17 
 
 mony, Jones went with his friend 
 to the door of the saloon. " Good- 
 by, ol' man," he said, genially. His 
 homely features shone with friendli- 
 ness. " Come aroun', now, sure. T'- 
 night ! See ? They're a great crowd. 
 Gre-e-at!" 
 2 
 
II. 
 
 A MAN with a red, mottled face put 
 forth his head from a window and 
 cursed violently. He flung a bottle 
 high across two backyards at a window 
 of the opposite tenement. It broke 
 against the bricks of the house and 
 the fragments fell crackling upon the 
 stones below. The man shook his fist. 
 
 A bare-armed woman, making an 
 array of clothes on a line in one of 
 the yards, glanced casually up at the 
 man and listened to his words. Her 
 eyes followed his to the other tenement. 
 From a distant window, a youth with a 
 pipe, yelled some comments upon the 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 19 
 
 poor aim. Two children, being in the 
 proper yard, picked up the bits of 
 broken glass and began to fondle them 
 as new toys. 
 
 From the window at which the man 
 raged came the sound of an old voice, 
 singing. It quavered and trembled 
 out into the air as if a sound- spirit had 
 a broken wing. 
 
 " Should I be car-reed tew th' skies 
 
 O-on flow'ry be-eds of ee-ease, 
 While others fought tew win th' prize 
 An' sailed through blood-ee seas." 
 
 The man in the opposite window was 
 greatly enraged. He continued to 
 swear. 
 
 A little old woman was the owner of 
 the voice. In a fourth-story room of 
 the red and black tenement she was 
 trudging on a journey. In her arms 
 
20 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 she bore pots and pans, and sometimes 
 a broom and dust-pan. She wielded 
 them like weapons. Their weight 
 seemed to have bended her back and 
 crooked her arms until she walked with 
 difficulty. Often she plunged her 
 hands into water at a sink. She 
 splashed about, the dwindled muscles 
 working to and fro under the loose 
 skin of her arms. She came from the 
 sink, steaming and bedraggled as if she 
 had crossed a flooded river. 
 
 There was the flurry of a battle in 
 this room. Through the clouded dust 
 or steam one could see the thin figure 
 dealing mighty blows. Always her way 
 seemed beset. Her broom was continu- 
 ally poised, lance-wise, at dust demons. 
 There came clashings and clangings as 
 she strove with her tireless foes. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 21 
 
 It was a picture of indomitable cour- 
 age. And as she went on her way her 
 voice was often raised in a long cry, a 
 strange war-chant, a shout of battle 
 and defiance, that rose and fell in harsh 
 screams, and exasperated the ears of 
 the man with the red, mottled face. 
 
 ' ' Should I be car-reed tew tli' skies 
 O-on flow'ry be-eds of ee-ease " 
 
 Finally she halted for a moment. 
 Going to the window she sat down and 
 mopped her face with her apron. It 
 was a lull, a moment of respite. Still 
 it could be seen that she even then 
 was planning skirmishes, charges, cam- 
 paigns. She gazed thoughtfully about 
 the room and noted the strength and 
 position of her enemies. She was very 
 alert. 
 
22 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 At last, she turned to the mantel. 
 " Five o'clock " she murmured, scruti- 
 nizing a little, swaggering, nickle-plated 
 clock. 
 
 She looked out at chimneys growing 
 thickly on the roofs. A man at work 
 on one seemed like a bee. In the in- 
 tricate yards below, vine-like lines had 
 strange leaves of cloth. To her ears 
 there came the howl of the man with 
 the red, mottled face. He was engaged 
 in a furious altercation with the youth 
 who had called attention to his poor 
 aim. They were like animals in a 
 jungle. 
 
 In the distance an enormous brew- 
 ery towered over the other buildings. 
 Great gilt letters advertised a brand of 
 beer. Thick smoke came from funnels 
 and spread near it like vast and power- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 23 
 
 ful wings. The structure seemed a 
 great bird, flying. The letters of the 
 sign made a chain of gold hanging from 
 its neck. The little old woman looked 
 at the brewery. It vaguely interested 
 her, for a moment, as a stupendous af- 
 fair, a machine of mighty strength. 
 
 Presently she sprang from her rest 
 and began to buffet with her shrivelled 
 arms. In a moment the battle was 
 again in full swing. Terrific blows 
 were given and received. There arose 
 the clattering uproar of a new fight. 
 The little intent warrior never hesitated 
 nor faltered. She fought with a strong 
 and relentless will. Beads and lines of 
 perspiration stood upon her forehead. 
 
 Three blue plates were leaning in a 
 row on the shelf back of the stove. 
 The little old woman had seen it done 
 
24 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 somewhere. In front of them swag- 
 gered the round nickle-plated clock. 
 Her son had stuck many cigarette pict- 
 ures in the rim of a looking-glass that 
 hung near. Occasional chromos were 
 tacked upon the yellowed walls of the 
 room. There was one in a gilt frame. 
 It was quite an affair, in reds and 
 greens. They all seemed like trophies. 
 
 It began to grow dark. A mist came 
 winding. Rain plashed softly upon the 
 window-sill. A lamp had been lighted 
 in the opposite tenement; the strong 
 orange glare revealed the man with a 
 red, mottled face. He was seated by a 
 table, smoking and reflecting. 
 
 The little old woman looked at the 
 clock again. " Quarter 'a six." 
 
 She had paused for a moment, but 
 she now hurled herself fiercely at the 
 
GEORGE 1 8 MOTHER. 25 
 
 stove that lurked in the gloom, red- 
 eyed, like a dragon. It hissed, and 
 there was renewed clangor of blows. 
 The little old woman dashed to and fro. 
 
DDL 
 
 As it grew toward seven o'clock the 
 little old woman became nervous. She 
 often would drop into a chair and sit 
 staring at the little clock. 
 
 " I wonder why he don't come," she 
 continually repeated. There was a 
 small, curious note of despair in her 
 voice. As she sat thinking and staring 
 at the clock the expressions of her face 
 changed swiftly. All manner of emo- 
 tions nickered in her eyes and about 
 her lips. She was evidently perceiving 
 in her imagination the journey of a 
 loved person. She dreamed for him 
 mishaps and obstacles. Something tre- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 27 
 
 mendous and irritating was hindering 
 him from coming to her. 
 
 She had lighted an oil -lamp. It 
 flooded the room with vivid yellow 
 glare. The table, in its oil-cloth cover- 
 ing, had previously appeared like a bit of 
 bare, brown desert. It now was a white 
 garden, growing the fruits of her labor. 
 
 "Seven o'clock," she murmured, 
 finally. She was aghast. 
 
 Then suddenly she heard a step upon 
 the stair. She sprang up and began to 
 bustle about the room. The little fear- 
 ful emotions passed at once from her 
 face. She seemed now to be ready to 
 scold. 
 
 Young Kelcey entered the room. He 
 gave a sigh of relief, and dropped his 
 pail in a corner. He was evidently 
 greatly wearied by a hard day of toil. 
 
28 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 The little old woman hobbled over to 
 him and raised her wrinkled lips. She 
 seemed on the verge of tears and an 
 outburst of reproaches. 
 
 " Hello ! " he cried, in a voice of 
 cheer. " Been gettin' anxious ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, hovering about him. 
 "Where yeh been, George? What 
 made yeh so late? I've been waitin' 
 th' longest while. Don't throw your 
 coat down there. Hang it up behind 
 th' door." 
 
 The son put his coat on the proper 
 hook, and then went to splatter water 
 in a tin wash-basin at the sink. 
 
 " Well, yeh see, I met Jones you re- 
 member Jones ? Ol' Handy ville fellah. 
 An' we had t' stop an' talk over ol' 
 times. Jones is quite a boy." 
 
 The little old woman's mouth set in 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 29 
 
 a sudden straight line. " Oh, that 
 Jones," she said. " I don't like him." 
 
 The youth interrupted a flurry of 
 white towel to give a glance of irrita- 
 tion. " Well, now, what's th' use of 
 talkin' that way?" he said to her. 
 " "What do yeh know 'bout 'im ? Ever 
 spoke to 'im in yer life ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't know as I ever did 
 since he grew up," replied the little old 
 woman. " But I know he ain't th' kind 
 ' a man I'd like t' have you go around 
 with. He ain't a good man. I'm sure 
 he ain't. He drinks." 
 
 Her son began to laugh. " Th' dick- 
 ens he does ? " He seemed amazed, but 
 not shocked at this information. 
 
 She nodded her head with the air of 
 one who discloses a dreadful thing. 
 " I'm sure of it ! Once I saw 'im comin' 
 
30 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 outa Simpson's Hotel, up in Handy- 
 ville, an' he could hardly walk. He 
 drinks ! I'm sure he drinks ! " 
 
 "Holy smoke ! " said Kelcey. 
 
 They sat down at the table and be- 
 gan to wreck the little white garden. 
 The youth leaned back in his chair, in 
 the manner of a man who is paying for 
 things. His mother bended alertly for- 
 ward, apparently watching each mouth- 
 ful. She perched on the edge of her 
 chair, ready to spring to her feet and 
 run to the closet or the stove for any- 
 thing that he might need. She was as 
 anxious as a young mother with a babe. 
 In the careless and comfortable atti- 
 tude of the son there was denoted a 
 great deal of dignity. 
 
 " Yeh ain't eatin' much t' -night, 
 George?" 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 31 
 
 "Well, I ain't very hungry, t' tell 
 th' truth." 
 
 "Don't yeh like yer supper, dear? 
 Yeh must eat somethin', chile. Yeh 
 mustn't go without." 
 
 "Well, I'm eatin' somethin', ain't 
 I?" 
 
 He wandered aimlessly through the 
 meal. She sat over behind the little 
 blackened coffee-pot and gazed affec- 
 tionately upon him. 
 
 After a time she began to grow agi- 
 tated. Her worn fingers were gripped. 
 It could be seen that a great thought 
 was within her. She was about to ven- 
 ture something. She had arrived at a 
 supreme moment. " George," she said, 
 suddenly, " come t' prayer-meetin' with 
 me t'-night." 
 
 The young man dropped his fork. 
 
32 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 " Say, you must be crazy," he said, in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Yes, dear," she continued, rapidly, 
 in a small pleading voice, "I'd like t' 
 have yeh go with me onct in a while. 
 Yeh never go with me any more, dear, 
 an' I'd like t' have yeh go. Yeh ain't 
 been anywheres at all with me in th' 
 longest while." 
 
 " Well," he said, " well, but what th' 
 blazes " 
 
 "Ah, come on," said the little old 
 woman. She went to him and put her 
 arms about his neck. She began to 
 coax him with caresses. 
 
 The young man grinned. " Thunder- 
 ation ! " he said, " what would I do at 
 a prayer-meetin' ? " 
 
 The mother considered him to be con- 
 senting. She did a little antique caper. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 33 
 
 " Well, yeh can come an' take care 'a 
 yer mother," she cried, gleefully. " It's 
 such a long walk every Thursday night 
 alone, an' don't yeh s'pose that when I 
 have such a big, fine, strappin' boy, I 
 want 'im t' beau me aroun' some? Ah, 
 I knew ye'd come." 
 
 He smiled for a moment, indulgent 
 of her humor. But presently his face 
 turned a shade of discomfort. "But," 
 he began, protesting. 
 
 "Ah, come on," she continually re- 
 peated. 
 
 He began to be vexed. He frowned 
 into the air. A vision came to him of 
 dreary blackness arranged in solemn 
 rows. A mere dream of it was depress- 
 ing. 
 
 "But " he said again. He was 
 obliged to make great search for an ar- 
 
34: GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 gument. Finally lie concluded, "But 
 what th' blazes would I do at prayer- 
 meetin' ? " 
 
 In his ears was the sound of a hymn, 
 made by people who tilted their heads 
 at a prescribed angle of devotion. It 
 would be too apparent that they were 
 all better than he. When he entered 
 they would turn their heads and regard 
 him with suspicion. This would be an 
 enormous aggravation, since he was 
 certain that he was as good as they. 
 
 "Well, now, y' see," he said, quite 
 gently, "I don't wanta go, an' it 
 wouldn't do me no good t' go if I 
 didn't wanta go." 
 
 His mother's face swiftly changed. 
 She breathed a huge sigh, the coun- 
 terpart of ones he had heard upon like 
 occasions. She put a tiny black bonnet 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 35 
 
 on her head, and wrapped her figure in 
 an old shawl. She cast a martyr-like 
 glance upon her son and went mourn- 
 fully away. She resembled a limited 
 funeral procession. 
 
 The young man writhed under it to 
 an extent. He kicked moodily at a 
 table-leg. When the sound of her 
 footfalls died away he felt distinctly 
 relieved. 
 
IV. 
 
 THAT night, when Kelcey arrived at 
 the little smiling saloon, he found his 
 friend Jones standing before the bar 
 engaged in a violent argument with a 
 stout man. 
 
 "Oh, well," this latter person was 
 saying, "you can make a lot of noise, 
 Charlie, for a man that never says any- 
 thing let's have a drink ! " 
 
 Jones was waving his arms and de- 
 livering splintering blows upon some 
 distant theories. The stout man chuc- 
 kled fatly and winked at the bartender. 
 
 The orator ceased for a moment to 
 say, "Gimme little whiskey, John." 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 37 
 
 At the same time he perceived young 
 Kelcey. He sprang forward with a 
 welcoming cry. " Hello, ol' man, didn't 
 much think ye'd come." He led him to 
 the stout man. 
 
 " Mr. Bleecker my friend Mr. Kel- 
 cey ! " 
 
 "Howd'yehdo!" 
 
 " Mr. Kelcey, I'm happy to meet you, 
 sir; have a drink." 
 
 They drew up in line and waited. 
 The busy hands of the bartender 
 made glasses clink. Mr. Bleecker, in 
 a very polite way, broke the waiting 
 silence. 
 
 " Never been here before, I believe, 
 have you, Mr. Kelcey ? " 
 
 The young man felt around for a 
 high-bred reply. " Er no I've never 
 had that er pleasure," he said. 
 
38 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 After a time the strained and wary 
 courtesy of their manners wore away. 
 It became evident to Bleecker that his 
 importance slightly dazzled the young 
 man. He grew warmer. Obviously, 
 the youth was one whose powers of 
 perception were developed. Directly, 
 then, he launched forth into a tale of 
 by-gone days, when the world was bet- 
 ter. He had known all the great men 
 of that age. He reproduced his con- 
 versations with them. There were 
 traces of pride and of mournfulness in 
 his voice. He rejoiced at the glory of 
 the world of dead spirits. He grieved 
 at the youth and flippancy of the pres- 
 ent one. He lived with his head in 
 the clouds of the past, and he seemed 
 obliged to talk of what he saw there. 
 
 Jones nudged Kelcey ecstatically in 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 39 
 
 the ribs. "You've got th' ol' man 
 started in great shape," he whispered. 
 
 Kelcey was proud that the prominent 
 character of the place talked at him, 
 glancing into his eyes for appreciation 
 of fine points. 
 
 Presently they left the bar, and go- 
 ing into a little rear room, took seats 
 about a table. A gas-jet with a colored 
 globe shed a crimson radiance. The 
 polished wood of walls and furniture 
 gleamed with faint rose-colored reflec- 
 tions. Upon the floor sawdust was 
 thickly sprinkled. 
 
 Two other men presently came. By 
 the time Bleecker had told three tales 
 of the grand past, Kelcey was slightly 
 acquainted with everybody. 
 
 He admired Bleecker immensely. He 
 developed a brotherly feeling for the 
 
40 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 others, who were all gentle-spoken. He 
 began to feel that he was passing the 
 happiest evening of his life. His com- 
 panions were so jovial and good-nat- 
 ured; and everything they did was 
 marked by such courtesy. 
 
 For a time the two men who had 
 come in late did not presume to ad- 
 dress him directly. They would say : 
 " Jones, won't your friend have so and 
 so, or so and so ? " And Bleecker 
 would begin his orations : " Now, Mr. 
 Kelcey, don't you think " 
 
 Presently he began to believe that he 
 was a most remarkably fine fellow, who 
 had at last found his place in a crowd 
 of most remarkably fine fellows. 
 
 Jones occasionally breathed com- 
 ments into his ear. 
 
 "I tell yeh, Bleecker's an ol'-timer. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 41 
 
 He was a husky guy in his day, yeh 
 can bet. He was one 'a th' best known 
 men in N* York onct. Yeh ought to 
 hear him tell about " 
 
 Kelcey listened intently. He was 
 profoundly interested in these intimate 
 tales of men who had gleamed in the 
 rays of old suns. 
 
 " That O'Connor's a damn fine fellah," 
 interjected Jones once, referring to one 
 of the others. " He's one 'a th' best 
 fellahs I ever knowed. He's always on 
 th' dead level. An' he's always jest th' 
 same as yeh see 'im now good-natured 
 an' grinnin'." 
 
 Kelcey nodded. He could well be- 
 lieve it. 
 
 When he offered to buy drinks there 
 came a loud volley of protests. "No, 
 no, Mr. Kelcey," cried Bleecker, " no, 
 
42 GEORGE'S MOTHEB. 
 
 no. To-night you are our guest. 
 Some other time " 
 
 "Here," said O'Connor, "it's my 
 turn now." 
 
 He called and pounded for the bar- 
 tender. He then sat with a coin in his 
 hand warily eying the others. He was 
 ready to frustrate them if they offered 
 to pay. 
 
 After a time Jones began to develop 
 qualities of great eloquence and wit. 
 His companions laughed. "It's the 
 whiskey talking now," said Bleecker. 
 
 He grew earnest and impassioned. 
 He delivered speeches on various sub- 
 jects. His lectures were to him very 
 imposing. The force of his words 
 thrilled him. Sometimes he was over- 
 come. 
 
 The others agreed with him in all 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 43 
 
 things. Bleecker grew almost tender, 
 and considerately placed words here 
 and there for his use. As Jones be- 
 came fiercely energetic the others be- 
 came more docile in agreeing. They 
 soothed him with friendly interjec- 
 tions. 
 
 His mode changed directly. He be- 
 gan to sing popular airs with enthusiasm. 
 He congratulated his companions upon 
 being in his society. They were excited 
 by his frenzy. They began to frater- 
 nize in jovial fashion. It was under- 
 stood that they were true and tender 
 spirits. They had come away from a 
 grinding world filled with men who 
 were harsh. 
 
 When one of them chose to divulge 
 some place where the world had pierced 
 him, there was a chorus of violent sym- 
 
44 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 pathy. They rejoiced at their tem- 
 porary isolation and safety. 
 
 Once a man, completely drunk, stum- 
 bled along the floor of the saloon. He 
 opened the door of the little room and 
 made a show of entering. The men 
 sprang instantly to their feet. They 
 were ready to throttle any invader of 
 their island. They elbowed each other 
 in rivalry as to who should take upon 
 himself the brunt of an encounter. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the drunken individual, 
 swaying on his legs and blinking at the 
 party, " oh ! thish private room ? " 
 
 " That's what it is, Willie," said 
 Jones. " An' you git outa here er we'll 
 throw yeh out." 
 
 "That's what we will," said the 
 others. 
 
 " Oh," said the drunken man. He 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 45 
 
 blinked at them aggrievedly for an in- 
 stant and then went away. 
 
 They sat down again. Kelcey felt, 
 in a way, that he would have liked to 
 display his fidelity to the others by 
 whipping the intruder. 
 
 The bartender came often. "Gee, 
 you fellahs er tanks," he said, in a 
 jocular manner, as he gathered empty 
 glasses and polished the table with his 
 little towel. 
 
 Through the exertions of Jones the 
 little room began to grow clamorous. 
 The tobacco-smoke eddied about the 
 forms of the men in ropes and wreaths. 
 Near the ceiling there was a thick gray 
 cloud. 
 
 Each man explained, in his way, that 
 he was totally out of place in the before- 
 mentioned world. They were pos- 
 
46 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 sessed of various virtues which were un- 
 appreciated by those with whom they 
 were commonly obliged to mingle ; 
 they were fitted for a tree-shaded land, 
 where everything was peace. Now that 
 five of them had congregated it gave 
 them happiness to speak their inmost 
 thoughts without fear of being misun* 
 derstood. 
 
 As he drank more beer Kelcey felt 
 his breast expand with manly feeling. 
 He knew that he was capable of sub- 
 lime things. He wished that some day 
 one of his present companions would 
 come to him for relief. His mind 
 pictured a little scene. In it he was 
 magnificent in his friendship. 
 
 He looked upon the beaming faces 
 and knew that if at that instant there 
 should come a time for a great sacrifice 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 47 
 
 he would blissfully make it. He would 
 pass tranquilly into the unknown, or into 
 bankruptcy, amid the ejaculations of 
 his companions upon his many virtues. 
 
 They had no bickerings during the 
 evening. If one chose to momentarily 
 assert himself, the others instantly sub- 
 mitted. 
 
 They exchanged compliments. Once 
 old Bleecker stared at Jones for a few 
 moments. Suddenly he broke out : 
 " Jones, you're one of the finest fellows 
 I ever knew ! " A flush of pleasure 
 went over the other's face, and then he 
 made a modest gesture, the protest of an 
 humble man. " Don't flim-flam me, ol' 
 boy," he said, with earnestness. But 
 Bleecker roared that he was serious 
 about it. The two men arose and 
 shook hands emotionally. Jones bunt- 
 
48 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 ed against the table and knocked off 
 a glass. 
 
 Afterward a general hand-shaking 
 was inaugurated. Brotherly sentiments 
 flew about the room. There was an up- 
 roar of fraternal feeling. 
 
 Jones began to sing. He beat time 
 with precision and dignity. He gazed 
 into the eyes of his companions, trying 
 to call music from their souls. O'Con- 
 nor joined in heartily, but with another 
 tune. Off in a corner old Bleecker was 
 making a speech. 
 
 The bartender came to the door. 
 "Gee, you fellahs er making a row. 
 It's time fer me t' shut up th' front th' 
 place, an' you mugs better sit on yer- 
 selves. It's one o'clock." 
 
 They began to argue with him. Kel- 
 cey, however, sprang to his feet. " One 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 49 
 
 o'clock," he said. "Holy smoke, I mus' 
 beflyin'!" 
 
 There came protesting howls from 
 Joues. Bleecker ceased his oration. 
 "My dear boy" he began. Kelcey 
 searched for his hat. " I've gota go t' 
 work at seven," he said. 
 
 The others watched him with dis- 
 comfort in their eyes. " Well," said 
 O'Connor, "if one goes we might as 
 well all go." They sadly took their 
 hats and filed out. 
 
 The cold air of the street filled Kel- 
 cey with vague surprise. It made his 
 head feel hot. As for his legs, they were 
 like willow-twigs. 
 
 A few yellow lights blinked. In front 
 of an all-night restaurant a huge red 
 electric lamp hung and sputtered. 
 Horse-car bells jingled far down the 
 
50 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 street. Overhead a train thundered on 
 the elevated road. 
 
 On the sidewalk the men took fervid 
 leave. They clutched hands with ex- 
 traordinary force and proclaimed, for the 
 last time, ardent and admiring friend- 
 ships. 
 
 When he arrived at his home Kelcey 
 proceeded with caution. His mother 
 had left a light burning low. He stum- 
 bled once in his voyage across the floor. 
 As he paused to listen he heard the 
 sound of little snores coming from her 
 room. 
 
 He lay awake for a few moments and 
 thought of the evening. He had a pleas- 
 urable consciousness that he had made 
 a good impression upon those fine fel- 
 lows. He felt that he had spent the 
 most delightful evening of his life. 
 
V. 
 
 KELCEY was cross in the morning. 
 His mother had been obliged to shake 
 him a great deal, and it had seemed to 
 him a most unjust thing. Also, when 
 he, blinking his eyes, had entered the 
 kitchen, she had said: "Yeh left th' 
 lamp burnin' all night last night, 
 George. How many times must I tell 
 yeh never t' leave th' lamp burnin' ? " 
 
 He ate the greater part of his break- 
 fast in silence, moodily stirring his 
 coffee and glaring at a remote corner 
 of the room with eyes that felt as if 
 they had been baked. When he moved 
 his eyelids there was a sensation that 
 
52 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 they were cracking. In his mouth 
 there was a singular taste. It seemed 
 to him that he had been sucking the 
 end of a wooden spoon. Moreover, his 
 temper was rampant within him. It 
 sought something to devour. 
 
 Finally he said, savagely : " Damn 
 these early hours ! " 
 
 His mother jumped as if he had flung 
 a missile at her. "Why, George " 
 she began. 
 
 Kelcey broke in again. " Oh, I know 
 all that but this gettin' up in th' 
 mornin' so' early makes me sick. Jest 
 when a man is gettin' his mornin' nap 
 he's gota get up. I ' 
 
 "George, dear," said his mother, 
 "yeh know how I hate yeh t' swear, 
 dear. Now please don't." She looked 
 beseechingly at him. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 53 
 
 He made a swift gesture. "Well, 
 I ain't swearin', am I ? " lie demanded. 
 " I was on'y say in' that this gettin'-up 
 business gives me a pain, wasn't I ? " 
 
 " Well, yeh know how swearin' hurts 
 me," protested the little old woman. 
 She seemed about to sob. She gazed 
 off retrospectively. She apparently 
 was recalling persons who had never 
 been profane. 
 
 "I don't see where yeh ever caught 
 this way a' swearin' out at everything," 
 she continued, presently. " Fred, ner 
 John, ner Willie never swore a bit. 
 Ner Tom neither, except when he was 
 real mad." 
 
 The son made another gesture. It 
 was directed into the air, as if he saw 
 there a phantom injustice. " Oh, good 
 thunder," he said, with an accent of 
 
54 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 despair. Thereupon, he relapsed into 
 a mood of silence. He sombrely re- 
 garded his plate. 
 
 This demeanor speedily reduced his 
 mother to meekness. When she spoke 
 again it was in a conciliatory voice. 
 "George, dear, won't yeh bring some 
 sugar home t'-night ? " It could be 
 seen that she was asking for a crown 
 of gold. 
 
 Kelcey aroused from his semi-slum- 
 ber. " Yes, if I kin remember it," he 
 said. 
 
 The little old woman arose to stow 
 her son's lunch into the pail. When he 
 had finished his breakfast he stalked 
 for a time about the room in a dignified 
 way. He put on his coat and hat, and 
 taking his lunch-pail went to the door. 
 There he halted, and without turning 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 55 
 
 his head, stiffly said: "Well, good- 
 by!" 
 
 The little old woman saw that she 
 had offended her son. She did not 
 seek an explanation. She was accus- 
 tomed to these phenomena. She made 
 haste to surrender. 
 
 "Ain't yeh goin' t' kiss me good- 
 by," she asked in a little woful voice. 
 
 The youth made a pretence of going 
 on, deaf-heartedly. He wore the dig- 
 nity of an injured monarch. 
 
 Then the little old woman called 
 again in forsaken accents : " George 
 George ain't yeh goin' t' kiss me 
 good-by ? " When he moved he found 
 that she was hanging to his coat-tails. 
 
 He turned eventually with a murmur 
 of a sort of tenderness. " Why, 'a 
 course I am," he said. He kissed her. 
 
56 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 Withal there was an undertone of supe- 
 riority in his voice, as if he were grant- 
 ing an astonishing suit. She looked at 
 him with reproach and gratitude and 
 affection. 
 
 She stood at the head of the stairs 
 and watched his hand sliding along the 
 rail as he went down. Occasionally 
 she could see his arm and part of his 
 shoulder. When he reached the first 
 floor she called to him : " Good-by ! " 
 
 The little old woman went back to 
 her work in the kitchen with a frown of 
 perplexity upon her brow. " I wonder 
 what was th' matter with George this 
 mornin'," she mused. " He didn't seem 
 a bit like himself ! " 
 
 As she trudged to and fro at her 
 labor she began to speculate. She 
 was much worried. She surmised in a 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 57 
 
 vague way that he was a sufferer from 
 a great internal disease. It was some- 
 thing no doubt that devoured the kid- 
 neys or quietly fed upon the lungs. 
 Later, she imagined a woman, wicked 
 and fair, who had fascinated him and 
 was turning his life into a bitter thing. 
 Her mind created many wondrous in- 
 fluences that were swooping like green 
 dragons at him. They were changing 
 him to a morose man, who suffered si- 
 lently. She longed to discover them, 
 that she might go bravely to the rescue 
 of her heroic son. She knew that he, 
 generous in his pain, would keep it 
 from her. She racked her mind for 
 knowledge. 
 
 However, when he came home at 
 night he was extraordinarily blithe. 
 He seemed to be a lad of ten. He 
 
58 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 capered all about the room. When 
 she was bringing the coffee-pot from the 
 stove to the table, he made show of 
 waltzing with her so that she spilled 
 some of the coffee. She was obliged to 
 scold him. 
 
 All through the meal he made jokes. 
 She occasionally was compelled to 
 laugh, despite the fact that she believed 
 that she should not laugh at her own 
 son's jokes. She uttered reproofs at 
 times, but he did not regard them. 
 
 " Golly," he said once, " I feel fine as 
 silk. I didn't think I'd get over feelin' 
 bad so quick. It " He stopped 
 abruptly. 
 
 During the evening he sat content. 
 He smoked his pipe and read from an 
 evening paper. She bustled about at 
 her work. She seemed utterly happy 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 59 
 
 with him there, lazily puffing out little 
 clouds of smoke and giving frequent 
 brilliant dissertations upon the news of 
 the day. It seemed to her that she 
 must be a model mother to have such 
 a son, one who came home to her at 
 night and sat contented, in a languor of 
 the muscles after a good day's toil. 
 She pondered upon the science of her 
 management. 
 
 The week thereafter, too, she was joy- 
 ous, for he stayed at home each night of 
 it, and was sunny-tempered. She be- 
 came convinced that she was a perfect 
 mother, rearing a perfect son. There 
 came often a love-light into her eyes. 
 The wrinkled, yellow face frequently 
 warmed into a smile of the kind that a 
 maiden bestows upon him who to her is 
 first and perhaps last. 
 
VI. 
 
 THE little old woman habitually dis- 
 couraged all outbursts of youthful 
 vanity upon the part of her son. She 
 feared that he would get to think too 
 much of himself, and she knew that 
 nothing could do more harm. Great 
 self-esteem was always passive, she 
 thought, and if he grew to regard his 
 qualities of mind as forming a dazzling 
 constellation, he would tranquilly sit 
 still and not do those wonders she ex- 
 pected of him. So she was constantly 
 on the alert to suppress even a shadow 
 of such a thing. As for him he rumi- 
 nated with the savage, vengeful bitter- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 61 
 
 ness of a young man, and decided that 
 she did not comprehend him. 
 
 But despite her precautions he often 
 saw that she believed him to be the 
 most marvellous young man on the 
 earth. He had only to look at those 
 two eyes that became lighted with a 
 glow from her heart whenever he did 
 some excessively brilliant thing. On 
 these occasions he could see her glance 
 triumphantly at a neighbor, or whoever 
 happened to be present. He grew to 
 plan for these glances. And then he 
 took a vast satisfaction in detecting 
 and appropriating them. 
 
 Nevertheless, he could not under- 
 stand why, directly after a scene of this 
 kind, his mother was liable to call to 
 him to hang his coat on the hook under 
 the mantel, her voice in a key of de- 
 
62 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 spair as if he were negligent and stupid 
 in what was, after all, the only impor- 
 tant thing in life. 
 
 "If yeh'll only get in the habit of 
 doin' it, it'll be jest as easy as thro win' 
 it down anywheres," she would say to 
 him. "When ye pitch it down any- 
 wheres, somebody's got t' pick it up, 
 an' that'll most likely be your poor ol' 
 mother. Yeh can hang it up yerself, if 
 yeh'll on'y think." This was intoler- 
 able. He usually went then and hurled 
 his coat savagely at the hook. The 
 correctness of her position was mad- 
 dening. 
 
 It seemed to him that anyone who 
 had a son of his glowing attributes 
 should overlook the fact that he sel- 
 dom hung up his coat. It was impos- 
 sible to explain this situation to his 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 63 
 
 mother. She was unutterably narrow. 
 He grew sullen. 
 
 There came a time, too, that, even in 
 all his mother's tremendous admiration 
 for him, he did not entirely agree with 
 her. He was delighted that she liked 
 his great wit. He spurred himself to 
 new and flashing effort because of 
 this appreciation. But for the greater 
 part he could see that his mother 
 took pride in him in quite a different 
 way from that in which he took pride 
 in himself. She rejoiced at qualities 
 in him that indicated that he was 
 going to become a white and loom- 
 ing king among men. From these she 
 made pictures in which he appeared as 
 a benign personage, blessed by the 
 filled hands of the poor, one whose 
 brain could hold massive thoughts and 
 
64: GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 awe certain men about whom she had 
 read. She was feted as the mother of 
 this enormous man. These dreams were 
 her solace. She spoke of them to no 
 one because she knew that, worded, 
 they would be ridiculous. But she 
 dwelt with them, and they shed a radi- 
 ance of gold upon her long days, her 
 sorry labor. Upon the dead altars of 
 her life she had builded the little fires 
 of hope for another. 
 
 He had a complete sympathy for 
 as much as he understood of these 
 thoughts of his mother. They were so 
 wise that he admired her foresight. 
 As for himself, however, most of his 
 dreams were of a nearer time. He had 
 many of the distant future when he 
 would be a man with a cloak of cold- 
 ness concealing his gentleness and his 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 65 
 
 faults, and of whom the men and, more 
 particularly, the women, would think 
 with reverence. He agreed with his 
 mother that at that time he would go 
 through the obstacles to other men like 
 a flung stone. And then he would have 
 power and he would enjoy having his 
 bounty and his wrath alike fall swift- 
 ly upon those below. They would be 
 awed. And above all he would mystify 
 them. 
 
 But then his nearer dreams were a 
 multitude. He had begun to look at 
 the great world revolving near to his 
 nose. He had a vast curiosity concern- 
 ing this city in whose complexities he 
 was buried. It was an impenetrable 
 mystery, this city. It was a blend of 
 many enticing colors. He longed to 
 comprehend it completely, that he 
 
66 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 might walk understandingly in its great- 
 est marvels, its mightiest march of life, 
 sin. He dreamed of a comprehension 
 whose pay was the admirable atti- 
 tude of a man of knowledge. He re- 
 membered Jones. He could not help 
 but admire a man who knew so many 
 bartenders. 
 
YII. 
 
 AN indefinite woman was in all of 
 Kelcey's dreams. As a matter of fact 
 it was not he whom he pictured as wed- 
 ding her. It was a vision of himself 
 greater, finer, more terrible. It was 
 himself as he expected to be. In scenes 
 which he took mainly from pictures, 
 this vision conducted a courtship, strut- 
 ting, posing, and lying through a drama 
 which was magnificent from glow of 
 purple. In it he was icy, self-pos- 
 sessed ; but she, the dream-girl, was con- 
 sumed by wild, torrential passion. He 
 went to the length of having her display 
 it before the people. He saw them 
 
68 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 wonder at his tranquillity. It amazed 
 them infinitely to see him remain cold 
 before the glory of this peerless wom- 
 an's love. She was to him as beseech- 
 ing for affection as a pet animal, but 
 still he controlled appearances and none 
 knew of his deep abiding love. Some 
 day, at the critical romantic time, he 
 was going to divulge it. In these long 
 dreams there were accessories of cas- 
 tle-like houses, wide lands, servants, 
 horses, clothes. 
 
 They began somewhere in his child- 
 hood. When he ceased to see himself 
 as a stern general pointing a sword at 
 the nervous and abashed horizon, he 
 became this sublime king of a vague 
 woman's heart. Later when he had 
 read some books, it all achieved clearer 
 expression. He was told in them that 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 69 
 
 there was a goddess in the world whose 
 business it was to wait until he should 
 exchange a glance with her. It became 
 a creed, subtly powerful. It saved dis- 
 comfort for him and for several women 
 who flitted by him. He used her as a 
 standard. 
 
 Often he saw the pathos of her long 
 wait, but his faith did not falter. The 
 world was obliged to turn gold in time. 
 His life was to be fine and heroic, else 
 he would not have been born. He be- 
 lieved that the common-place lot was the 
 sentence, the doom of certain people 
 who did not know how to feel. His 
 blood was a tender current of life. He 
 thought that the usual should fall to 
 others whose nerves were of lead. Oc- 
 casionally he wondered how fate was 
 going to begin in making an enormous 
 
TO GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 figure of him ; but he had no doubt of 
 the result. A chariot of pink clouds 
 was coming for him. His faith was 
 his reason for existence. Meanwhile 
 he could dream of the indefinite wom- 
 an and the fragrance of roses that 
 came from her hair. 
 
 One day he met Maggie Johnson on 
 the stairs. She had a pail of beer in 
 one hand and a brown-paper parcel un- 
 der her arm. She glanced at him. He 
 discovered that it would wither his heart 
 to see another man signally successful 
 in the smiles of her. And the glance 
 that she gave him was so indifferent and 
 so unresponsive to the sudden vivid ad- 
 miration in his own eyes that he imme- 
 diately concluded that she was magnifi 
 cent in two ways. 
 
 As she came to the landing, the light 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 71 
 
 from a window passed in a silver gleam 
 over the girlish roundness of her cheek. 
 It was a thing that he remembered. 
 
 He was silent for the most part at 
 supper that night. He was particu- 
 larly unkind when he did speak. His 
 mother, observing him apprehensively, 
 tried in vain to picture the new terrible 
 catastrophe. She eventually concluded 
 that he did not like the beef-stew. She 
 put more salt in it. 
 
 He saw Maggie quite frequently after 
 the meeting upon the stairs. He recon- 
 structed his dreams and placed her in 
 the full glory of that sun. The dream- 
 woman, the goddess, pitched from her 
 pedestal, lay prostrate, unheeded, save 
 when he brought her forth to call her 
 insipid and childish in the presence of 
 his new religion. 
 
72 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 He was relatively happy sometimes 
 when Maggie's mother would get drunk 
 and make terrific uproars. He used 
 then to sit in the dark and make scenes 
 in which he rescued the girl from her 
 hideous environment. 
 
 He laid clever plans by which he en- 
 countered her in the halls, at the door, 
 on the street. When he succeeded in 
 meeting her he was always overcome 
 by the thought that the whole thing 
 was obvious to her. He could feel the 
 shame of it burn his face and neck. 
 To prove to her that she was mistaken 
 he would turn away his head or regard 
 her with a granite stare. 
 
 After a time he became impatient of 
 the distance between them. He saw 
 looming princes who would aim to seize 
 her. Hours of his leisure and certain 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 73 
 
 hours of his labor he spent in contriv- 
 ing. The shade of this girl was with 
 him continually. With her he builded 
 his grand dramas so that he trod in 
 clouds, the matters of his daily life ob- 
 scured and softened by a mist. 
 
 He saw that he need only break down 
 the slight conventional barriers and she 
 would soon discover his noble char- 
 acter. Sometimes he could see it all 
 in his mind. It was very skilful. But 
 then his courage flew away at the su- 
 preme moment. Perhaps the whole 
 affair was humorous to her. Perhaps 
 she was watching his mental contor- 
 tions. She might laugh. He felt that 
 he would then die or kill her. He 
 could not approach the dread mo- 
 ment. He sank often from the threshold 
 of knowledge. Directly after these 
 
74 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 occasions, it was his habit to avoid her 
 to prove that she was a cipher to him. 
 
 He reflected that if he could only get 
 a chance to rescue her from something, 
 the whole tragedy would speedily un- 
 wind. 
 
 He met a young man in the halls one 
 evening who said to him : " Say, me 
 frien', where d' d' Johnson birds live in 
 heh? I can't fin' me feet in dis 
 bloornin' joint. I been battin' round 
 heh fer a half -hour." 
 
 "Two flights up," said Kelcey ston- 
 ily. He had felt a sudden quiver of 
 his heart. The grandeur of the clothes, 
 the fine worldly air, the experience, the 
 self-reliance, the courage that shone in 
 the countenance of this other young 
 man made him suddenly sink to the 
 depths of woe. He stood listening in 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 75 
 
 the hall, flushing and ashamed of it, 
 until he heard them coming down-stairs 
 together. He slunk away then. It 
 would have been a horror to him if she 
 had discovered him there. She might 
 have felt sorry for him. 
 
 They were going out to a show, per- 
 haps. That pig of the world in his 
 embroidered cloak was going to dazzle 
 her with splendor. He mused upon 
 how unrighteous it was for other men 
 to dazzle women with splendor. 
 
 As he appreciated his handicap he 
 swore with savage, vengeful bitterness. 
 In his home his mother raised her voice 
 in a high key of monotonous irrita- 
 bility. " Hang up yer coat, can't yeh r 
 George ? " she cried at him. " I can't 
 go round after yeh all th' time. It's jest 
 as easy t' hang it up as it is t' throw it 
 
76 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 down that way. Don't yen ever git 
 tired 'a hearin' me yell at yeh ! " 
 
 " Yes," he exploded. In this word he 
 put a profundity of sudden anger. He 
 turned toward his mother a face, red, 
 seamed, hard with hate and rage. They 
 stared a moment in silence. Then she 
 turned and staggered toward her room. 
 Her hip struck violently against the 
 corner of the table during this blind 
 passage. A moment later the door 
 closed. 
 
 Kelcey sank down in a chair with his 
 legs thrust out straight and his hands 
 deep in his trousers' pockets. His chin 
 was forward upon his breast and his 
 eyes stared before him. There swept 
 over him all the self-pity that comes 
 when the soul is turned back from a 
 road. 
 
vni. 
 
 DUBING the next few days Kelcey 
 suffered from his first gloomy conviction 
 that the earth was not grateful to him 
 for his presence upon it. When sharp 
 words were said to him, he interpreted 
 them with what seemed to be a lately 
 acquired insight. He could now per- 
 ceive that the universe hated him. He 
 sank to the most sublime depths of 
 despair. 
 
 One evening of this period he met 
 Jones. The latter rushed upon him 
 with enthusiasm. " Why, yer jest th' 
 man I wanted t' see ! I was comin' 
 round t' your place t'-night. Lucky I 
 
78 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 met yeh ! Ol' Bleecker's goin' t* give a 
 blow-out t'-morrah night. Anything 
 yeh want t' drink? All th' boys '11 be 
 there an' everything. He tol' me ex- 
 pressly that he wanted yeh t' be there. 
 Great time ! Great ! Can yeh come ? " 
 
 Kelcey grasped the other's hand with 
 fervor. He felt now that there was 
 some solacing friendship in space. 
 " You bet I will, ol' man," he said, hus- 
 kily. "I'd like nothin' better in th' 
 world ! " 
 
 As he walked home he thought that 
 he was a very grim figure. He was 
 about to taste the delicious revenge of 
 a partial self-destruction. The universe 
 would regret its position when it saw 
 him drunk. 
 
 He was a little late in getting to 
 Bleecker's lodging. He was delayed 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 79 
 
 while his mother read aloud a letter 
 from an old uncle, who wrote in one 
 place : " God bless th' boy ! Bring him 
 up to be the man his father was." 
 Bleecker lived in an old three-storied 
 house on a side-street. A Jewish tailor 
 lived and worked in the front parlor, 
 and old Bleecker lived in the back par- 
 lor. A German, whose family took care 
 of the house, occupied the basement. 
 Another German, with a wife and eight 
 children, rented the dining-room. The 
 two upper floors were inhabited by 
 tailors, dressmakers, a pedler, and mys- 
 terious people who were seldom seen. 
 The door of the little hall-bedroom, at 
 the foot of the second flight, was always 
 open, and in there could be seen two 
 bended men who worked at mending 
 opera-glasses. The German woman in 
 
80 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 the dining-room was not friends with 
 the little dressmaker in the rear room 
 of the third floor, and frequently they 
 yelled the vilest names up and down 
 between the balusters. Each part of 
 the woodwork was scratched and rubbed 
 by the contact of innumerable persons. 
 In one wall there was a long slit with 
 chipped edges, celebrating the time when 
 a man had thrown a hatchet at his wife. 
 In the lower hall there was an eternal 
 woman, with a rag and a pail of suds, 
 who knelt over the worn oilcloth. Old 
 Bleecker felt that he had quite respect- 
 able and high-class apartments. He 
 was glad to invite his friends. 
 
 Bleecker met Kelcey in the hall. He 
 wore a collar that was cleaner and 
 higher than his usual one. It changed 
 his appearance greatly. He was now 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 81 
 
 formidably aristocratic. " How are yeh, 
 ol j man?" he shouted. He grasped 
 Kelcey's arm, and, babbling jovially, 
 conducted him down the hall and into 
 the ex-parlor. 
 
 A group of standing men made vast 
 shadows in the yellow glare of the 
 lamp. They turned their heads as the 
 two entered. " Why, hello, Kelcey, ol* 
 man," Jones exclaimed, coming rapidly 
 forward " Good fer you ! Glad yeh 
 come ! Yeh know O'Connor, 'a course ! 
 An' Schmidt ! an' Woods ! Then there's 
 Zeusentell ! Mr. Zeusentell my friend 
 Mr. Kelcey ! Shake hands both good 
 fellows, damnitall ! Then here is oh, 
 gentlemen, my friend Mr. Kelcey! A 
 good fellow, he is, too! I've known 
 'im since I was a kid ! Come, have a 
 drink!" Everybody was excessively 
 
82 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 amiable. Kelcey felt that he had social 
 standing. The strangers were cautious 
 and respectful. 
 
 "By all means," said old Bleecker. 
 " Mr. Kelcey, have a drink! An' by th' 
 way, gentlemen, while we're about it, 
 let's all have a drink!" There was 
 much laughter. Bleecker was so droll 
 at times. 
 
 With mild and polite gesturing they 
 marched up to the table. There were 
 upon it a keg of beer, a long row of 
 whiskey bottles, a little heap of corn- 
 cob pipes, some bags of tobacco, a box 
 of cigars, and a mighty collection of 
 glasses, cups, and mugs. Old Bleecker 
 had arranged them so deftly that they 
 resembled a primitive bar. There was 
 considerable scuffling for possession of 
 the cracked cups. Jones politely but 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 83 
 
 vehemently insisted upon drinking from 
 the worst of the assortment. He was 
 quietly opposed by others. Everybody 
 showed that they were awed by Bleeck- 
 er's lavish hospitality. Their demeanors 
 expressed their admiration at the cost 
 of this entertainment. 
 
 Kelcey took his second mug of beer 
 away to a comer and sat down with 
 it. He wished to socially reconnoitre. 
 Over in a corner a man was telling a 
 story, in which at intervals he grunted 
 like a pig. A half dozen men were 
 listening. Two or three others sat alone 
 in isolated places. They looked expect- 
 antly bright, ready to burst out cor- 
 dially if anyone should address them. 
 The row of bottles made quaint shadows 
 upon the table, and upon a side-wall 
 the keg of beer created a portentous 
 
84 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 black figure that reared toward the ceil- 
 ing, hoveling over the room and its 
 inmates with spectral stature. Tobacco- 
 smoke lay in lazy cloud-banks overhead. 
 Jones and O'Connor stayed near the 
 table, occasionally being affable in all 
 directions. Kelcey saw old Bleecker go 
 to them and heard him whisper : " Come 
 we must git th' thing started. Git th' 
 thing started." Kelcey saw that the 
 host was fearing that all were not hav- 
 ing a good time. Jones conferred with 
 O'Connor and then O'Connor went to 
 the man named Zeusentell. O'Connor 
 evidently proposed something. Zeusen- 
 tell refused at once. O'Connor be- 
 seeched. Zeusentell remained implaca- 
 ble. At last O'Connor broke off his 
 argument, and going to the centre of 
 the room, held up his hand. " Gentle- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 85 
 
 men," he shouted loudly, " we will now 
 have a recitation by Mr. Zeusentell, en- 
 titled 'Patrick Clancy's Pig!'" He 
 then glanced triumphantly at Zeusentell 
 and said : " Come on ! " Zeusentell had 
 been twisting and making pantomimic 
 appeals. He said, in a reproachful 
 whisper : " You son of a gun." 
 
 The men turned their heads to glance 
 at Zeusentell for a moment and then 
 burst into a sustained clamor. " Hur- 
 ray ! Let 'er go ! Come give it t' us ! 
 Spring it ! Spring it ! Let it come ! " 
 As Zeusentell made no advances, they 
 appealed personally. "Come, ol' man, 
 let 'er go! Whatter yeh 'fraid of? 
 Let 'er go ! Go ahn ! Hurry up ! " 
 
 Zeusentell was protesting with almost 
 frantic modesty. O'Connor took him 
 by the lapel and tried to drag him ; but 
 
86 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 he leaned back, pulling at his coat and 
 shaking his head. "No, no, I don't 
 know it, I tell yeh ! I can't ! I don't 
 know it! I tell yeh I don't know it! 
 I've forgotten it, I tell yeh ! No no 
 no no. Ah, say, lookahere, le' go me, 
 can't yeh ? What's th' matter with 
 yeh? I tell yeh I don't know it!" 
 The men applauded violently. O'Con- 
 nor did not relent. A little battle was 
 waged until all of a sudden Zeusentell 
 was seen to grow wondrously solemn. 
 A hush fell upon the men. He was 
 about to begin. He paused in the 
 middle of the floor and nervously ad- 
 justed his collar and cravat. The 
 audience became grave. " ' Patrick 
 Clancy's Pig,' " announced Zeusentell 
 in a shrill, dry, unnatural tone. And 
 then he began in rapid sing-song : 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 87 
 
 " Patrick Clancy had a pig 
 
 Th* pride uv all th* nation, 
 
 The half uv him was half as big 
 
 As half uv all creation " 
 
 When he concluded the others looked 
 at each other to convey their apprecia- 
 tion. They then wildly clapped their 
 hands or tinkled their glasses. As 
 Zeusentell went toward his seat a man 
 leaned over and asked : " Can yeh tell 
 me where I kin git that." He had 
 made a great success. After an enor- 
 mous pressure he was induced to recite 
 two more tales. Old Bleecker finally 
 led him forward and pledged him in a 
 large drink. He declared that they 
 were the best things he had ever heard. 
 
 The efforts of Zeusentell imparted a 
 gayety to the company. The men hav- 
 ing laughed together were better ac- 
 
88 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 quainted, and there was now a universal 
 topic. Some of the party, too, began 
 to be quite drunk. 
 
 The invaluable O'Connor brought 
 forth a man who could play the mouth- 
 organ. The latter, after wiping his in- 
 strument upon his coat-sleeve, played 
 all the popular airs. The men's heads 
 swayed to and fro in the clouded 
 smoke. They grinned and beat time 
 with their feet. A valor, barbaric and 
 wild, began to show in their poses and 
 in their faces, red and glistening from 
 perspiration. The conversation re- 
 sounded in a hoarse roar. The beer 
 would not run rapidly enough for Jones, 
 so he remained behind to tilt the keg. 
 This caused the black shadow on the 
 wall to retreat and advance, sinking 
 mystically to loom forward again with 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 89 
 
 sudden menace, a huge dark figure con- 
 trolled, as by some unknown emotion. 
 The glasses, mugs, and cups travelled 
 swift and regular, catching orange re- 
 flections from the lamp-light. Two or 
 three men were grown so careless that 
 they were continually spilling their 
 drinks. Old Bleecker, cackling with 
 pleasure, seized time to glance trium- 
 phantly at Jones. His party was going 
 to be a success. 
 
IX. 
 
 OF a sudden Kelcey felt the buoyant 
 thought that he was having a good 
 time. He was all at once an enthusiast, 
 as if he were at a festival of a religion. 
 He felt that there was something fine 
 and thrilling in this affair isolated from 
 a stern world, and from which the 
 laughter arose like incense. He knew 
 that old sentiment of brotherly regard 
 for those about him. He began to con- 
 verse tenderly with them. He was not 
 sure of his drift of thought, but he 
 knew that he was immensely sympa- 
 thetic. He rejoiced at their faces, 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 91 
 
 shining red and wrinkled with smiles. 
 He was capable of heroisms. 
 
 His pipe irritated him by going out 
 frequently. He was too busy in amia- 
 ble conversations to attend to it. When 
 he arose to go for a match he discov- 
 ered that his legs were a trifle uncertain 
 under him. They bended and did not 
 precisely obey his intent. At the table 
 he lit a match and then, in laughing at 
 a joke made near him, forgot to apply it 
 to the bowl of his pipe. He succeeded 
 with the next match after annoying 
 trouble. He swayed so that the match 
 would appear first on one side of the 
 bowl and then on the other. At last 
 he happily got it directly over the to- 
 bacco. He had burned his fingers. He 
 inspected them, laughing vaguely. 
 
 Jones came and slapped him on the 
 
92 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 shoulder. " Well, ol' man, let's take a 
 drink fer ol' Handyville's sake ! " 
 
 Kelcey was deeply affected. He 
 looked at Jones with moist eyes. "I'll 
 go yeh," he said. With an air of pro- 
 found melancholy, Jones poured out 
 some whiskey. They drank reverently. 
 They exchanged a glistening look of 
 tender recollections and then went over 
 to where Bleecker was telling a humor- 
 ous story to a circle of giggling listen- 
 ers. The old man sat like a fat, jolly 
 god. " and just at that moment th' 
 old woman put her head out of th' win- 
 dow an' said : ' Mike, yez lezy divil, fer 
 phwat do yez be slapin' in me new ge- 
 ranium bid? ' An' Mike woke up an' 
 said: 'Domn a washwoman thot do 
 niver wash her own bidclues. Here 
 do I be slapin' in nothin' but dhirt an 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 93 
 
 wades.' " The men slapped their knees, 
 roaring loudly. They begged him to 
 tell another. A clamor of comment 
 arose concerning the anecdote, so that 
 when old Bleecker began a fresh one 
 nobody was heeding. 
 
 It occurred to Jones to sing. Sud- 
 denly he burst forth with a ballad that 
 had a rippling waltz movement, and 
 seizing Kelcey, made a furious attempt 
 to dance. They sprawled over a pair 
 of outstretched legs and pitched head- 
 long. Kelcey fell with a yellow crash. 
 Blinding lights flashed before his vi- 
 sion. But he arose immediately, laugh- 
 ing. He did not feel at all hurt. The 
 pain in his head was rather pleasant. 
 
 Old Bleecker, O'Connor, and Jones, 
 who now limped and drew breath 
 through his teeth, were about to lead 
 
94: GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 him with much care and tenderness to 
 the table for another drink, but he 
 laughingly pushed them away and went 
 unassisted. Bleecker told him : " Great 
 Gawd, your head struck hard enough t' 
 break a trunk." 
 
 He laughed again, and with a show of 
 steadiness and courage he poured out 
 an extravagant portion of whiskey. 
 With cold muscles he put it to his lips 
 and drank it. It chanced that this ad- 
 dition dazed him like a powerful blow. 
 A moment later it affected him with 
 blinding and numbing power. Sud- 
 denly unbalanced, he felt the room 
 sway. His blurred sight could only 
 distinguish a tumbled mass of shadow 
 through which the beams from the light 
 ran like swords of flame. The sound of 
 the many voices was to him like the 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 95 
 
 roar of a distant river. Still, he felt 
 that if he could only annul the force 
 of these million winding fingers that 
 gripped his senses, he was capable of 
 most brilliant and entertaining things. 
 
 He was at first of the conviction that 
 his feelings were only temporary. He 
 waited for them to pass away, but the 
 mental and physical pause only caused 
 a new reeling and swinging of the 
 room. Chasms with inclined ap- 
 proaches were before him; peaks 
 leaned toward him. And withal he 
 was blind and numb with surprise. He 
 understood vaguely in his stupefaction 
 that it would disgrace him to fall down 
 a chasm. 
 
 At last he perceived a shadow, a 
 form, which he knew to be Jones. 
 The adorable Jones, the supremely 
 
96 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 wise Jones, was walking in this strange 
 land without fear or care, erect and 
 tranquil. Kelcey murmured in admira- 
 tion and affection, and fell toward his 
 friend. Jones's voice sounded as from 
 the shores of the unknown. " Come, 
 come, ol' man, this will never do. 
 Brace up." It appeared after all that 
 Jones was not wholly wise. " Oh, I'm 
 all ri' Jones ! I'm all ri' ! I wan' shing 
 song ! Tha's all ! I wan' shing song ! " 
 
 Jones was stupid. " Come now, sit 
 down an' shut up." 
 
 It made Kelcey burn with fury. 
 "Jones, le' me alone, I tell yeh! Le' 
 me alone! I wan' shing song er te' 
 story ! G'l'm'n, I lovsh girl live down 
 my shtreet. Thash reason 'm drunk, 
 'tis! She " 
 
 Jones seized him and dragged him 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 97 
 
 toward a chair. He heard him laugh. 
 He could not endure these insults from 
 his friend. He felt a blazing desire to 
 strangle his companion. He threw out 
 his hand violently, but Jones grappled 
 him close and he was no more than a 
 dried leaf. He was amazed to find that 
 Jones possessed the strength of twenty 
 horses. He was forced skilfully to the 
 floor. 
 
 As he lay, he reflected in great aston- 
 ishment upon Jones's muscle. It was 
 singular that he had never before dis- 
 covered it. The whole incident had 
 impressed him immensely. An idea 
 struck him that he might denounce 
 Jones for it. It would be a sage thing. 
 There would be a thrilling and dramatic 
 moment in which he would dazzle all 
 
 the others. But at this moment he was 
 
 7 
 
98 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 assailed by a mighty desire to sleep. 
 Sombre and soothing clouds of slumber 
 were heavily upon him. He closed his 
 eyes with a sigh that was yet like that 
 of a babe. 
 
 When he awoke, there was still the 
 battleful clamor of the revel. He half 
 arose with a plan of participating, when 
 O'Connor came and pushed him down 
 again, throwing out his chin in affec- 
 tionate remonstrance and saying, " Now, 
 now," as to a child. 
 
 The change that had come over these 
 men mystified Kelcey in a great degree. 
 He had never seen anything so vastly 
 stupid as their idea of his state. He 
 resolved to prove to them that they 
 were dealing with one whose mind was 
 very clear. He kicked and squirmed 
 in O'Connor's arms, until, with a final 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 99 
 
 wrench, he scrambled to his feet and 
 stood tottering in the middle of the 
 room. He would let them see that he 
 had a strangely lucid grasp of events. 
 " GTm'n, I lovsh girl ! I ain' drunk- 
 
 er'n yen all are ! She " 
 
 He felt them hurl him to a corner of 
 the room and pile chairs and tables 
 upon him until he was buried beneath 
 a stupendous mountain. Far above, as 
 up a mine's shaft, there were voices, 
 lights, and vague figures. He was not 
 hurt physically, but his feelings were 
 unutterably injured. He, the brilliant, 
 the good, the sympathetic had been 
 thrust fiendishly from the party. They 
 had had the comprehension of red lob- 
 sters. It was an unspeakable barbarism. 
 Tears welled piteously from his eyes. 
 He planned long diabolical explanations ! 
 
AT first the gray lights of dawn came 
 timidly into the room, remaining near 
 the windows, afraid to approach cer- 
 tain sinister corners. Finally, mellow 
 streams of sunshine poured in, undrap- 
 ing the shadows to disclose the putrefac- 
 tion, making pitiless revelation. Kel- 
 cey awoke with a groan of undirected 
 misery. He tossed his stiffened arms 
 about his head for a moment and then 
 leaning heavily upon his elbow stared 
 blinking at his environment. The 
 grim truthfulness of the day showed 
 disaster and death. After the tumults 
 of the previous night the interior of 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 101 
 
 this room resembled a decaying battle- 
 field. The air hung heavy and stifling 
 with the odors of tobacco, men's breaths, 
 and beer half filling forgotten glasses. 
 There was ruck of broken tumblers, 
 pipes, bottles, spilled tobacco, cigar 
 stumps. The chairs and tables were 
 pitched this way and that way, as after 
 some terrible struggle. In the midst of 
 it all lay old Bleecker stretched upon a 
 couch in deepest sleep, as abandoned in 
 attitude, as motionless, as ghastly as if it 
 were a corpse that had been flung there. 
 A knowledge of the thing came grad- 
 ually into Kelcey's eyes. He looked 
 about him with an expression of ut- 
 ter woe, regret, and loathing. He was 
 compelled to lie down again. A pain 
 above his eyebrows was like that from 
 an iron-clamp. 
 
102 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 As he lay pondering, his bodily con- 
 dition created for him a bitter philoso- 
 phy, and he perceived all the futility 
 of a red existence. He saw his life 
 problems confronting him like granite 
 giants and he was no longer erect to 
 meet them. He had made a calamitous 
 retrogression in his war. Spectres were 
 to him now as large as clouds. 
 
 Inspired by the pitiless ache in his 
 head, he was prepared to reform and 
 live a white life. His stomach informed 
 him that a good man was the only be- 
 ing who was wise. But his perception 
 of his future was hopeless. He was 
 aghast at the prospect of the old rou- 
 tine. It was impossible. He trembled 
 before its exactions. 
 
 Turning toward the other way, he saw 
 that the gold portals of vice no longer 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 103 
 
 enticed him. He could not hear the 
 strains of alluring music. The beck- 
 oning sirens of drink had been killed 
 by this pain in his head. The desires 
 of his life suddenly lay dead like mullein 
 stalks. Upon reflection, he saw, there- 
 fore, that he was perfectly willing to 
 be virtuous if somebody would come 
 and make it easy for him. 
 
 When he stared over at old Bleecker, 
 he felt a sudden contempt and dislike 
 for him. He considered him to be a 
 tottering old beast. It was disgusting 
 to perceive aged men so weak in sin. 
 He dreaded to see him awaken lest 
 he should be required to be somewhat 
 civil to him. 
 
 Kelcey wished for a drink of water. 
 For some time he had dreamed of the 
 liquid, deliciously cool. It was an ab- 
 
104 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 stract, uncontained thing that poured 
 upon him and tumbled him, taking 
 away his pain like a kind of surgery. 
 He arose and staggered slowly toward 
 a little sink in a corner of the room. 
 He understood that any rapid move- 
 ment might cause his head to split. 
 
 The little sink was filled with a chaos 
 of broken glass and spilled liquids. A 
 sight of it filled him with horror, but he 
 rinsed a glass with scrupulous care, and 
 filling it, took an enormous drink. The 
 water was an intolerable disappoint- 
 ment. It was insipid and weak to his 
 scorched throat and not at all cool. He 
 put down the glass with a gesture of de- 
 spair. His face became fixed in the 
 stony and sullen expression of a man 
 who waits for the recuperative power 
 of morrows. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 105 
 
 Old Bleecker awakened. He rolled 
 over and groaned loudly. For awhile 
 he thrashed about in a fury of displeas- 
 ure at his bodily stiffness and pain. 
 Kelcey watched him as he would have 
 watched a death agony. " Good Gawd," 
 said the old man, "beer an' whiskey 
 make th' devil of a mix. Did yeh see 
 th' fight ? " 
 
 " No," said Kelcey, stolidly. 
 
 "Why, Zeusentell an' O'Connor had 
 a great old mill. They were scrappin' 
 all over th' place. I thought we were 
 all goin' t' get pulled. Thompson, that 
 fellah over in th' corner, 'though, he sat 
 down on th' Avhole business. He was 
 a dandy ! He had t' poke Zeusentell ! 
 He was a bird ! Lord, I wish I had a 
 Manhattan ! " 
 
 Kelcey remained in bitter silence 
 
106 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 while old Bleecker dressed. "Come 
 an' get a cocktail," said the latter brisk- 
 ly. This was part of his aristocracy. 
 He was the only man of them who 
 knew much about cocktails. He per- 
 petually referred to them. " It'll brace 
 yeh right up ! Come along ! Say, you 
 get full too soon. You oughter wait un- 
 til later, me boy ! You're too speedy ! " 
 Kelcey wondered vaguely where his 
 companion had lost his zeal for polished 
 sentences, his iridescent mannerisms. 
 
 " Come along," said Bleecker. 
 
 Kelcey made a movement of dis- 
 dain for cocktails, but he followed the 
 other to the street. At the corner they 
 separated. Kelcey attempted a friendly 
 parting smile and then went on up the 
 street. He had to reflect to know that 
 he was erect and using his own muscles 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 107 
 
 in walking. He felt like a man of 
 paper, blown by the winds. Withal, 
 the dust of the avenue was galling to his 
 throat, eyes, and nostrils, and the roar 
 of traffic cracked his head. He was 
 glad, however, to be alone, to be rid of 
 old Bleecker. The sight of him had 
 been as the contemplation of a disease. 
 
 His mother was not at home. In his 
 little room he mechanically undressed 
 and bathed his head, arms, and shoul- 
 ders. When he crawled between the 
 two white sheets he felt a first lifting of 
 his misery. His pillow was soothingly 
 soft. There was an effect that was like 
 the music of tender voices. 
 
 When he awoke again his mother was 
 bending over him giving vent to alter- 
 nate cries of grief and joy. Her hands 
 trembled so that they were useless to 
 
108 GEORGE '8 MOTHER. 
 
 her. " Oh, George, George, where 
 have yeh been ? What has happened t' 
 yeh? Oh, George, I've been so wor- 
 ried ! I didn't sleep a wink all night." 
 
 Kelcey was instantly wide awake. 
 With a moan of suffering he turned 
 his face to the wall before he spoke. 
 "Never mind, mother, I'm all right. 
 Don't fret now ! I was knocked down 
 by a truck last night in th' street, an' 
 they took me t' th' hospital ; but it's all 
 right now. I got out jest a little while 
 ago. They told me I'd better go home 
 an' rest up." 
 
 His mother screamed in pity, horror, 
 joy, and self-reproach for something 
 unknown. She frenziedly demanded the 
 details. He sighed with unutterable 
 weariness. " Oh wait wait wait," 
 he said shutting his eyes as from the 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 109 
 
 merciless monotony of a pain. " Wait 
 wait please wait. I can't talk now. 
 I want t* rest." 
 
 His mother condemned herself with 
 a little cry. She adjusted his pillow, 
 her hands shaking with love and ten- 
 derness. "There, there, don't mind, 
 dearie ! But yeh can't think how wor- 
 ried I was an' crazy. I was near 
 frantic. I went down t' th' shop, an* 
 they said they hadn't seen anything 
 'a yeh there. The foreman was awful 
 good t' me. He said he'd come up this 
 atternoon t' see if yeh had come home 
 yet. He tol' me not t' worry. Are yeh 
 sure yer all right ? Ain't there any thin' 
 I kin git fer yeh ? What did th' docter 
 say?" 
 
 Kelcey's patience was worn. He 
 gestured, and then spoke querulously. 
 
110 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 "Now now mother, it's all right, I 
 tell yeh ! All I need is a little rest an' 
 I'll be as well as ever. But it makes it 
 all th' worse if yeh stand there an* ask 
 me questions an' make me think. Jest 
 leave me alone fer a little while, an' I'll 
 be as well as ever. Can't yeh do 
 that?" 
 
 The little old woman puckered her 
 lips funnily. "My, what an old bear 
 th' boy is ! " She kissed him blithely. 
 Presently she went out, upon her face a 
 bright and glad smile that must have 
 been a reminiscence of some charming 
 girlhood. 
 
XI. 
 
 AT one time Kelcey had a friend who 
 was struck in the head by the pole of a 
 truck and knocked senseless. He was 
 taken to the hospital, from which he 
 emerged in the morning an astonished 
 man, with rather a dim recollection of 
 the accident. He used to hold an old 
 brier-wood pipe in his teeth in a man- 
 ner peculiar to himself, and, with a 
 brown derby hat tilted back on his 
 head, recount his strange sensations. 
 Kelcey had always remembered it as 
 a bit of curious history. When his 
 mother cross-examined him in regard 
 to the accident, he told this story with 
 
112 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 barely a variation. Its truthfulness 
 was incontestable. 
 
 At the shop he was welcomed on the 
 following day with considerable enthu- 
 siasm. The foreman had told the story 
 and there were already jokes created 
 concerning it. Mike O'Donnell, whose 
 wit was famous, had planned a hu- 
 morous campaign, in which he made 
 charges against Kelcey, which were, as 
 a matter of fact, almost the exact truth. 
 Upon hearing it, Kelcey looked at him 
 suddenly from the corners of his eyes, 
 but otherwise remained imperturbable. 
 O'Donnell eventually despaired. " Yez 
 can't goiy that kid! He tekes ut all 
 loike mate an' dhrink." Kelcey often 
 told the story, his pipe held in his 
 teeth peculiarly, and his derby tilted 
 back on his head. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 113 
 
 He remained at home for several 
 evenings, content to read the papers 
 and talk with his mother. She began 
 to look around for the tremendous rea- 
 son for it. She suspected that his near- 
 ness to death in the recent accident 
 had sobered his senses and made him 
 think of high things. She mused upon 
 it continually. When he sat moodily 
 pondering she watched him. She said 
 to herself that she saw the light break- 
 ing in upon his spirit. She felt that it 
 was a very critical period of his exist- 
 ence. She resolved to use all her 
 power and skill to turn his eyes toward 
 the lights in the sky. Accordingly she 
 addressed him one evening. "Come, 
 go t' prayer-meetin' t'-night with me, 
 will yeh, George ? " It sounded more 
 blunt than she intended. 
 
114: GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 He glanced at her in sudden sur- 
 prise. " Huh ? " 
 
 As she repeated her request, her voice 
 quavered. She felt that it was a su- 
 preme moment. " Come, go t' prayer- 
 meetin' t'-night, won't yeh ? " 
 
 He seemed amazed. " Oh, I don't 
 know," he began. He was fumbling in 
 his mind for a reason for refusing. " I 
 don't wanta go. I'm tired as th' dick- 
 ens ! " His obedient shoulders sank 
 down languidly. His head mildly 
 drooped. 
 
 The little old woman, with a quick 
 perception of her helplessness, felt a 
 motherly rage at her son. It was in- 
 tolerable that she could not impart 
 motion to him in a chosen direction. 
 The waves of her desires were puny 
 against the rocks of his indolence. She 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 115 
 
 Lad a great wish to beat him. " I don't 
 know what I'm ever goin' t' do with 
 yeh," she told him, in a choking voice. 
 " Yeh won't do anything I ask yeh to. 
 Yeh never pay th' least bit 'a attention 
 t' what I say. Yeh don't mind me any 
 more than yeh would a fly. Whatever 
 am I goin' t' do with yeh ? " She faced 
 him in a battleful way, her eyes blazing 
 with a sombre light of despairing rage. 
 
 He looked up at her ironically. "I 
 don't know," he said, with calmness. 
 "What are yeh? " He had traced her 
 emotions and seen her fear of his re- 
 bellion. He thrust out his legs in the 
 easy scorn of a rapier-bravo. "What 
 are yeh?" 
 
 The little old woman began to weep. 
 They were tears without a shame of 
 grief. She allowed them to run un- 
 
116 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 heeded down her cheeks. As she stared 
 into space her son saw her regarding 
 there the powers and influences that 
 she had held in her younger life. She 
 was in some way acknowledging to fate 
 that she was now but withered grass, 
 with no power but the power to feel 
 the winds. He was smitten with a 
 sudden shame. Besides, in the last few 
 days he had gained quite a character 
 for amiability. He saw something grand 
 in relenting at this point. " Well," he 
 said, trying to remove a sulky quality 
 from his voice, " well, if yer bound t' 
 have me go, I s'pose I'll have t' go." 
 
 His mother, with strange, immobile 
 face, went to him and kissed him on the 
 brow. "All right, George!" There 
 was in her wet eyes an emotion which 
 he could not fathom. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 117 
 
 She put on her bonnet and shawl, 
 and they went out together. She was 
 unusually silent, and made him wonder 
 why she did not appear gleeful at his 
 coming. He was resentful because she 
 did not display more appreciation of 
 his sacrifice. Several times he thought 
 of halting and refusing to go farther, to 
 see if that would not wring from her 
 some acknowledgment. 
 
 In a dark street the little chapel sat 
 humbly between two towering apart- 
 ment-houses. A red street-lamp stood 
 in front. It threw a marvellous re- 
 flection upon the wet pavements. It 
 was like the death- stain of a spirit. 
 Farther up the brilliant lights of an 
 avenue made a span of gold across the 
 black street. A roar of wheels and a 
 clangor of bells came from this point, 
 
118 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 interwoven into a sound emblematic of 
 the life of the city. It seemed some- 
 how to affront this solemn and austere 
 little edifice. It suggested an approach- 
 ing barbaric invasion. The little church, 
 pierced, would die with a fine, illimit- 
 able scorn for its slayers. 
 
 When Kelcey entered with his moth- 
 er he felt a sudden quaking. His knees 
 shook. It was an awesome place to 
 him. There was a menace in the red 
 padded carpet and the leather doors, 
 studded with little brass tacks that 
 penetrated his soul with their pitiless 
 glances. As for his mother, she had 
 acquired such a new air that he would 
 have been afraid to address her. He 
 felt completely alone and isolated at 
 this formidable time. 
 
 There was a man in the vestibule who 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 119 
 
 looked at them blandly. From within 
 came the sound of singing. To Kelcey 
 there was a million voices. He dreaded 
 the terrible moment when the doors 
 should swing back. He wished to re- 
 coil, but at that instant the bland man 
 pushed the doors aside and he followed 
 his mother up the centre aisle of the 
 little chapel. To him there was a riot 
 of lights that made him transparent. 
 The multitudinous pairs of eyes that 
 turned toward him were implacable in 
 their cool valuations. 
 
 They had just ceased singing. He 
 who conducted the meeting motioned 
 that the services should wait until the 
 new-comers found seats. The little old 
 woman went slowly on toward the first 
 rows. Occasionally she paused to 
 scrutinize vacant places, but they did 
 
120 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 not seem to meet her requirements. 
 Kelcey was in agony. He thought the 
 moment of her decision would never 
 come. In his unspeakable haste he 
 walked a little faster than his mother. 
 Once she paused to glance in her calcu- 
 lating way at some seats and he forged 
 ahead. He halted abruptly and re- 
 turned, but by that time she had re- 
 sumed her thoughtful march up the 
 aisle. He could have assassinated 
 her. He felt that everybody must 
 have seen his torture, during which 
 his hands were to him like monstrous 
 swollen hides. He was wild with a 
 rage in which his lips turned slightly 
 livid. He was capable of doing some 
 furious, unholy thing. 
 
 When the little old woman at last 
 took a seat, her son sat down beside her 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 121 
 
 slowly and stiffly. He was opposing 
 his strong desire to drop. 
 
 When from the mists of his shame 
 and humiliation the scene came before 
 his vision, he was surprised to find that 
 all eyes were not fastened upon his 
 face. The leader of the meeting seemed 
 to be the only one who saw him. He 
 stared gravely, solemnly, regretfully. 
 He was a pale-faced, but plump young 
 man in a black coat that buttoned to 
 his chin. It was evident to Kelcey 
 that his mother had spoken of him to 
 the young clergyman, and that the lat- 
 ter was now impressing upon him the 
 sorrow caused by the contemplation of 
 his sin. Kelcey hated the man. 
 
 A man seated alone over in a corner 
 began to sing. He closed his eyes and 
 threw back his head. Others, scattered 
 
122 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 sparsely throughout the innumerable 
 light-wood chairs, joined him as they 
 caught the air. Kelcey heard his moth- 
 er's frail, squeaking soprano. The 
 chandelier in the centre was the only 
 one lighted, and far at the end of the 
 room one could discern the pulpit 
 swathed in gloom, solemn and mys- 
 tic as a bier. It was surrounded by 
 vague shapes of darkness on which at 
 times was the glint of brass, or of glass 
 that shone like steel, until one could 
 feel there the presence of the army of 
 the unknown, possessors of the great 
 eternal truths, and silent listeners at 
 this ceremony. High up, the stained- 
 glass windows loomed in leaden array 
 like dull-hued banners, merely catching 
 occasional splashes of dark wine-color 
 from the lights. Kelcey fell to brooding 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 123 
 
 concerning this indefinable presence 
 which he felt in a church. 
 
 One by one people arose and told 
 little tales of their religious faith. 
 Some were tearful and others calm, 
 emotionless, and convincing. Kelcey 
 listened closely for a time. These peo- 
 ple filled him with a great curiosity. 
 He was not familiar with their types. 
 
 At last the young clergyman spoke 
 at some length. Kelcey was amazed, 
 because, from the young man's appear- 
 ance, he would not have suspected him 
 of being so glib ; but the speech had no 
 effect on Kelcey, excepting to prove to 
 him again that he was damned. 
 
XIL 
 
 KELCEY sometimes wondered whether 
 he liked beer. He had been obliged to 
 cultivate a talent for imbibing it. He 
 was born with an abhorrence which he 
 had steadily battled until it had come 
 to pass that he could drink from ten to 
 twenty glasses of beer without the act of 
 swallowing causing him to shiver. He 
 understood that drink was an essential 
 to joy, to the coveted position of a man 
 of the world and of the streets. The 
 saloons contained the mystery of a 
 street for him. When he knew its 
 saloons he comprehended the street. 
 Drink and its surroundings were the 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 125 
 
 eyes of a superb green dragon to him. 
 He followed a fascinating glitter, and 
 the glitter required no explanation. 
 
 Directly after old Bleecker's party he 
 almost reformed. He was tired and 
 worn from the tumult of it, and he saw 
 it as one might see a skeleton emerged 
 from a crimson cloak. He wished then 
 to turn his face away. Gradually, how- 
 ever, he recovered his mental balance. 
 Then he admitted again by his point of 
 view that the thing was not so terrible. 
 His headache had caused him to exag- 
 gerate. A drunk was not the blight 
 which he had once remorsefully named 
 it. On the contrary, it was a mere un- 
 pleasant incident. He resolved, how- 
 ever, to be more cautious. 
 
 When prayer - meeting night came 
 again his mother approached him hope- 
 
126 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 fully. She smiled like one whose re- 
 quest is already granted. "Well, will 
 yeh go t' prayer-meetin' with ine t'- 
 night again?" 
 
 He turned toward her with eloquent 
 suddenness, and then riveted his eyes 
 upon a corner of the floor. " Well, I 
 guess not," he said. 
 
 His mother tearfully tried to com- 
 prehend his state of mind. " What has 
 come over yeh ? " she said, tremblingly. 
 " Teh never used t' be this way, George. 
 Teh never used t' be so cross an' mean 
 f me " 
 
 " Oh, I ain't cross an' mean t' yeh," 
 he interpolated, exasperated and violent. 
 
 " Tes, yeh are, too ! I ain't hardly 
 had a decent word from yeh in ever so 
 long. Ter as cross an' as mean as yeh 
 can be. I don't know what t' make of 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 127 
 
 it. It can't be ' There came a look 
 in her eyes that told that she was going 
 to shock and alarm him with her heav- 
 iest sentence "it can't be that yeh've 
 got t' drinkin'." 
 
 Kelcey grunted with disgust at the 
 ridiculous thing. "Why, what an old 
 goose yer gettin' t' be." 
 
 She was compelled to laugh a little, 
 as a child laughs between tears at a 
 hurt. She had not been serious. She 
 was only trying to display to him how 
 she regarded his horrifying mental state. 
 " Oh, of course, I didn't mean that, but 
 I think yeh act jest as bad as if yeh did 
 drink. I wish yeh would do better, 
 George ! " 
 
 She had grown so much less frigid 
 and stern in her censure that Kelcey 
 seized the opportunity to try to make a 
 
128 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 joke of it. He laughed at her, but she 
 shook her head and continued : " I do 
 wish yeh would do better. I don't know 
 what's t' become 'a yeh, George. Yeh 
 don't mind what I say no more'n if I 
 was th' wind in th' chirnbly. Yeh don't 
 care about nothin' 'cept goin' out nights. 
 I can't ever get yeh t' prayer-meetin' 
 ner church ; yeh never go out with me 
 anywheres unless yeh can't get out of 
 it; yeh swear an' take on sometimes 
 like everything, yeh never 
 
 He gestured wrathfully in interrup- 
 tion. " Say, lookahere, can't yeh think 
 'a something I do ? " 
 
 She ended her oration then in the 
 old way. "An' I don't know what's 
 goin' t' become 'a yeh." 
 
 She put on her bonnet and shawl and 
 then came and stood near him, expect- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 129 
 
 antly. She imparted to her attitude a 
 subtle threat of unchangeableness. He 
 pretended to be engrossed in his news- 
 paper. The little swaggering clock on 
 the mantel became suddenly evident, 
 ticking with loud monotony. Present- 
 ly she said, firmly : " "Well, are yeh 
 comin' ? " 
 
 He was reading. 
 
 " Well, are yeh comin' ? " 
 
 He threw his paper down, angrily. 
 " Oh, why don't yeh go on an' leave me 
 alone ? " he demanded in supreme im- 
 patience. " "What do yeh wanta pester 
 me fer ? Ye'd think there was robbers. 
 Why can't yeh go alone er else stay 
 home ? You wanta go an' I don't wanta 
 go, an' yeh keep all time tryin' t' drag 
 me. Yeh know I don't wanta go." He 
 concluded in a last defiant wounding of 
 
130 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 her. " What do I care 'bout those ol' 
 bags-a-wind anyhow? They gimme a 
 pain!" 
 
 His mother turned her face and went 
 from him. He sat staring with a 
 mechanical frown. Presently he went 
 and picked up his newspaper. 
 
 Jones told him that night that every- 
 body had had such a good time at old 
 Bleecker's party that they were going 
 to form a club. They waited at the lit- 
 tle smiling saloon, and then amid much 
 enthusiasm all signed a membership- 
 roll. Old Bleecker, late that night, was 
 violently elected president. He made 
 speeches of thanks and gratification 
 during the remainder of the meeting. 
 Kelcey went home rejoicing. He felt that 
 at any rate he would have true friends. 
 The dues were a dollar for each week. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 131 
 
 He was deeply interested. For a 
 number of evenings he fairly gobbled 
 his supper in order that he might be off 
 to the little smiling saloon to discuss 
 the new organization. All the men 
 were wildly enthusiastic. One night 
 the saloon-keeper announced that he 
 would donate half the rent of quite a 
 large room over his saloon. It was an 
 occasion for great cheering. Kelcey's 
 legs were like whalebone when he tried 
 to go up-stairs upon his return home, 
 and the edge of each step was moved 
 curiously forward. 
 
 His mother's questions made him 
 snarl. " Oh, nowheres ! " At other 
 times he would tell her : " Oh, t' see 
 some friends 'a mine ! Where d' yeh 
 s'pose?" 
 
 Finally, some of the women of the 
 
132 GEORGE'S MOTHER, 
 
 tenement concluded that the little old 
 mother had a wild son. They came to 
 condole with her. They sat in the 
 kitchen for hours. She told them of 
 his wit, his cleverness, his kind heart. 
 
XIII. 
 
 AT a certain time Kelcey discovered 
 that some young men who stood in the 
 cinders between a brick wall and the 
 pavement, and near the side-door of a 
 corner saloon, knew more about life 
 than other people. They used to lean 
 there smoking and chewing, and com- 
 ment upon events and persons. They 
 knew the neighborhood extremely well. 
 They debated upon small typical things 
 that transpired before them until they 
 had extracted all the information that 
 existence contained. They sometimes 
 inaugurated little fights with foreigners 
 or well-dressed men. It was here that 
 
134 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 Sapristi Glielmi, the pedler, stabbed 
 Pete Brady to death, for which he got a 
 life-sentence. Each patron of the sa- 
 loon was closely scrutinized as he en- 
 tered the place. Sometimes they used 
 to throng upon the heels of a man and 
 in at the bar assert that he had asked 
 them in to drink. When he objected, 
 they would claim with one voice that it 
 was too deep an insult and gather about 
 to thrash him. When they had caught 
 chance customers and absolute stran- 
 gers, the barkeeper had remained in 
 stolid neutrality, ready to serve one or 
 seven, but two or three times they had 
 encountered the wrong men. Finally, 
 the proprietor had come out one morn- 
 ing and told them, in the fearless way of 
 his class, that their pastime must cease. 
 "It quits right here! See? Eight 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 135 
 
 here ! Th' nex' time yeh try t' work it, 
 I come with th' bung-starter, an' th' 
 mugs I miss with it git pulled. See? 
 It quits ! " Infrequently, however, men 
 did ask them in to drink. 
 
 The policeman of that beat grew dig- 
 nified and shrewd whenever he ap- 
 proached this corner. Sometimes he 
 stood with his hands behind his back 
 and cautiously conversed with them. 
 It was understood on both sides that 
 it was a good thing to be civil. 
 
 In winter this band, a trifle dimin- 
 ished in numbers, huddled in their old 
 coats and stamped little flat places in 
 the snow, their faces turned always to- 
 ward the changing life in the streets. 
 In the summer they became more live- 
 ly. Sometimes, then, they walked out 
 to the curb to look up and down the 
 
136 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 street. Over in a trampled vacant lot, 
 surrounded by high tenement-houses, 
 there was a sort of a den among some 
 bowlders. An old truck was made to 
 form a shelter. The small hoodlums 
 of that vicinity all avoided the spot. 
 So many of them had been thrashed 
 upon being caught near it. It was the 
 summer-time lounging-place of the band 
 from the corner. 
 
 They were all too clever to work. 
 Some of them had worked, but these 
 used their experiences as stores from 
 which to draw tales. They were like 
 veterans with their wars. One lad in 
 particular used to recount how he 
 whipped his employer, the proprietor 
 of a large grain and feed establish- 
 ment. He described his victim's feat- 
 ures and form and clothes with minute 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 137 
 
 exactness. He bragged of his wealth 
 and social position. It had been a 
 proud moment of the lad's life. He 
 was like a savage who had killed a 
 great chief. 
 
 Their feeling for contemporaneous 
 life was one of contempt. Their phil- 
 osophy taught that in a large part the 
 whole thing was idle and a great bore. 
 With fine scorn they sneered at the 
 futility of it. Work was done by men 
 who had not the courage to stand still 
 and let the skies clap together if they 
 willed. 
 
 The vast machinery of the popular 
 law indicated to them that there were 
 people in the world who wished to re- 
 main quiet. They awaited the moment 
 when they could prove to them that a 
 riotous upheaval, a cloud-burst of de- 
 
138 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 struction would be a delicious thing. 
 They thought of their fingers buried in 
 the lives of these people. They longed 
 dimly for a time when they could run 
 through decorous streets with crash 
 and roar of war, an army of revenge for 
 pleasures long possessed by others, a 
 wild sweeping compensation for their 
 years without crystal and gilt, women 
 and wine. This thought slumbered in 
 them, as the image of Rome might have 
 lain small in the hearts of the barba- 
 rians. 
 
 Kelcey respected these youths so 
 much that he ordinarily used the other 
 side of the street. He could not go near 
 to them, because if a passer-by mind- 
 ed his own business he was a disdain- 
 ful prig and had insulted them ; if he 
 showed that he was aware of them they 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 139 
 
 were likely to resent his not minding 
 his own business and prod him into a 
 fight if the opportunity were good. Kel- 
 cey longed for their acquaintance and 
 friendship, for with it came social safety 
 and ease ; they were respected so uni- 
 versally. 
 
 Qnce in another street Fidsey Cor- 
 coran was whipped by a short, heavy 
 man. Fidsey picked himself up, and 
 in the fury of defeat hurled pieces of 
 brick at his opponent. The short man 
 dodged with skill and then pursued 
 Fidsey for over a block. Sometimes he 
 got near enough to punch him. Fidsey 
 raved in maniacal fury. The moment 
 the short man would attempt to resume 
 his own affairs, Fidsey would turn upon 
 him again, tears and blood upon his 
 face, with the lashed rage of a van- 
 
140 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 quished animal. The short man used 
 to turn about, swear madly, and make 
 little dashes. Fidsey always ran and 
 then returned as pursuit ceased. The 
 short man apparently wondered if this 
 maniac was ever going to allow him to 
 finish whipping him. He looked help- 
 lessly up and down the street. People 
 were there who knew Fidsey, and they 
 remonstrated with him ; but he contin- 
 ued to confront the short man, gibber- 
 ing like a wounded ape, using all the 
 eloquence of the street in his wild 
 oaths. 
 
 Finally the short man was exasper- 
 ated to black fury. He decided to end 
 the fight. With low snarls, ominous as 
 death, he plunged at Fidsey. 
 
 Kelcey happened there then. He 
 grasped the short man's shoulder. He 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 141 
 
 cried out in the peculiar whine of the 
 man who interferes. "Oh, hoi' on! 
 Yeh don't wanta hit 'im any more ! 
 Yeh've done enough to 'im now ! Leave 
 'imbe!" 
 
 The short man wrenched and tugged. 
 He turned his face until his teeth were 
 almost at Kelcey's cheek : " Le' go 
 
 me! Le' go me, you " The rest 
 
 of his sentence was screamed curses. 
 
 Kelcey's face grew livid from fear, 
 but he somehow managed to keep his 
 grip. Fidsey, with but an instant's 
 pause, plunged into the new fray. 
 
 They beat the short man. They 
 forced him against a high board-fence 
 where for a few seconds their blows 
 sounded upon his head in swift thuds. 
 A moment later Fidsey descried a run- 
 ning policeman. He made off, fleet as 
 
142 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 a shadow. Kelcey noted his going. He 
 ran after him. 
 
 Three or four blocks away they 
 halted. Fidsey said: " I'd 'a licked 
 dat big stuff in 'bout a minute more," 
 and wiped the blood from his eyes. 
 
 At the gang's corner, they asked : 
 "Who soaked yeh, Fidsey?" His 
 description was burning. Everybody 
 laughed. " Where is 'e now ? " Later 
 they began to question Kelcey. He 
 recited a tale in which he allowed him- 
 self to appear prominent and redoubt- 
 able. They looked at him then as if 
 they thought he might be quite a man. 
 
 Once when the little old woman was 
 going out to buy something for her 
 son's supper, she discovered him stand- 
 ing at the side-door of the saloon en- 
 gaged intimately with Fidsey and the 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 143 
 
 others. She slunk away, for she under- 
 stood that it would be a terrible thing 
 to confront him and his pride there 
 with youths who were superior to 
 mothers. 
 
 When he arrived home he threw 
 down his hat with a weary sigh, as if he 
 had worked long hours, but she at- 
 tacked him before he had time to com- 
 plete the falsehood. He listened to her 
 harangue with a curled lip. In defence 
 he merely made a gesture of supreme 
 exasperation. She never understood 
 the advanced things in life. He felt 
 the hopelessness of ever making her 
 comprehend. His mother was not 
 modern. 
 
XIV. 
 
 THE little old woman arose early and 
 bustled in the preparation of breakfast. 
 At times she looked anxiously at the 
 clock. An hour before her son should 
 leave for work she went to his room 
 and called him in the usual tone of 
 sharpness, " George ! George ! " 
 
 A sleepy growl came to her. 
 
 " Come, come, it's time t' git up," she 
 continued. " Come now, git right up ! " 
 
 Later she went again to the door. 
 " George, are yeh gittin' up ? " 
 
 "Huh?" 
 
 " Are yeh gittin' up?" 
 
 " Yes, I'll git right up ! " He had in- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 145 
 
 troduced a valor into his voice which 
 she detected to be false. She went to 
 his bedside and took him by the shoul- 
 der. " George George git up ! " 
 
 From the mist-lands of sleep he 
 began to protest incoherently. " Oh' 
 le' me be, won' yeh ? 'M sleepy ! " 
 
 She continued to shake him. " Well, 
 it's time t' git up. Come come come 
 on, now." 
 
 Her voice, shrill with annoyance, 
 pierced his ears in a slender, piping 
 thread of sound. He turned over on 
 the pillow to bury his head in his arms. 
 When he expostulated, his tones came 
 half -smothered. " Oh le' me be, can't 
 yeh ? There's plenty 'a time ! Jest fer 
 ten minutes ! 'M sleepy ! " 
 
 She was implacable. " No, yeh must 
 
 git up now ! Yeh ain't got more'n time 
 10 
 
146 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 enough t' eat yer breakfast an' git t' 
 work." 
 
 Eventually he arose, sullen and grum- 
 bling. Later he came to his breakfast, 
 blinking his dry eyelids, his stiffened 
 features set in a mechanical scowl. 
 
 Each morning his mother went to his 
 room, and fought a battle to arouse him. 
 She was like a soldier. Despite his 
 pleadings, his threats, she remained at 
 her post, imperturbable and unyielding. 
 These affairs assumed large proportions 
 in his life. Sometimes he grew beside 
 himself with a bland, un formulated 
 wrath. The whole thing was a consum- 
 mate imposition. He felt that he was 
 being cheated of his sleep. It was an 
 injustice to compel him to arise morn- 
 ing after morning with bitter regularity, 
 before the sleep-gods had at all loosened 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 147 
 
 their grasp. He hated that unknown 
 force which directed his life. 
 
 One morning he swore a tangled 
 mass of oaths, aimed into the air, as if 
 the injustice poised there. His mother 
 flinched at first ; then her mouth set in 
 the little straight line. She saw that 
 the momentous occasion had come. It 
 was the time of the critical battle. She 
 turned upon him valorously. "Stop 
 your swearin', George Kelcey. I 
 won't have yeh talk so before me! I 
 won't have it ! Stop this minute ! Not 
 another word ! Do yeh think I'll allow 
 yeh t' swear b'fore me like that ? Not 
 another word ! I won't have it ! I de- 
 clare I won't have it another minute ! " 
 
 At first her projected words had slid 
 from his mind as if striking against ice, 
 but at last he heeded her. His face 
 
148 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 grew sour with passion and misery. 
 He spoke in tones dark with dislike. 
 "Th' 'ell yeh won't? Whatter yeh 
 goin' t' do 'bout it ? " Then, as if he 
 considered that he had not been suffi- 
 ciently impressive, he arose and slowly 
 walked over to her. Having arrived at 
 point-blank range he spoke again. 
 "Whatter yeh goin' t' do 'bout it?" 
 He regarded her then with an unalter- 
 ing scowl, albeit his mien was as dark 
 and cowering as that of a condemned 
 criminal. 
 
 She threw out her hands in the gest- 
 ure of an impotent one. He was ac- 
 knowledged victor. He took his hat 
 and slowly left her. 
 
 For three days they lived in silence. 
 He brooded upon his mother's agony 
 and felt a singular joy in it. As oppor- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 149 
 
 tunity offered, lie did little despicable 
 things. He was going to make her ab- 
 ject. He was now uncontrolled, un- 
 governed ; he wished to be an emperor. 
 Her suffering was all a sort of compen- 
 sation for his own dire pains. 
 
 She went about with a gray, im- 
 passive face. It was as if she had sur- 
 vived a massacre in which all that she 
 loved had been torn from her by the 
 brutality of savages. 
 
 One evening at six he entered and 
 stood looking at his mother as she 
 peeled potatoes. She had hearkened to 
 his coming listlessly, without emotion, 
 and at his entrance she did not raise 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Well, I'm fired," he said, sudden- 
 ly. 
 
 It seemed to be the final blow. Her 
 
150 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 body gave a convulsive movement in 
 the chair. When she finally lifted her 
 eyes, horror possessed her face. Her 
 under jaw had fallen. " Fired ? Outa 
 work? Why George?" He went 
 over to the window and stood with his 
 back to her. He could feel her gray 
 stare upon him. 
 
 "Yep! Fired!" 
 
 At last she said, " Well whatter yeh 
 goin't'do?" 
 
 He tapped the pane with his finger- 
 nail. He answered in a tone made 
 hoarse and unnatural by an assumption 
 of gay carelessness, " Oh, nothin' ! " 
 
 She began, then, her first weeping. 
 " Oh George George George 
 
 He looked at her scowling. "Ah, 
 whatter yeh givin' us ? Is this all I 
 git when I come home f 'm being fired ? 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 151 
 
 Anybody 'ud think it was my fault. I 
 couldn't help it." 
 
 She continued to sob in a dull, 
 shaking way. In the pose of her 
 head there was an expression of her 
 conviction that comprehension of her 
 pain was impossible to the universe. 
 He paused for a moment, and then, 
 with his usual tactics, went out, slam- 
 ming the door. A pale flood of sun- 
 light, imperturbable at its vocation, 
 streamed upon the little old woman, 
 bowed with pain, forlorn in her chair. 
 
XV. 
 
 KELCEY was standing on the corner 
 next day when three little boys came 
 running. Two halted some distance 
 away, and the other came forward. 
 He halted before Kelcey, and spoke 
 importantly. 
 
 " Hey, your ol' woman's sick." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Your oF woman's sick.''" 
 
 "Git out!" 
 
 "She is, too!" 
 
 "Whotol'yeh?" 
 
 " Mis' Callahan. She said f er me t' 
 run an' tell yeh. Dey want yeh." 
 
 A swift dread struck Kelcey. Like 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 153 
 
 flashes of light little scenes from the 
 past shot through his brain. He had 
 thoughts of a vengeance from the clouds. 
 As he glanced about him the familiar 
 view assumed a meaning that was omi- 
 nous and dark. There was prophecy of 
 disaster in the street, the buildings, 
 the sky, the people. Something tragic 
 and terrible in the air was known to his 
 nervous, quivering nostrils. He spoke 
 to the little boy in a tone that quav- 
 ered. "All right!" 
 
 Behind him he felt the sudden con- 
 templative pause of his companions of 
 the gang. They were watching him. 
 As he went rapidly up the street he 
 knew that they had come out to the 
 middle of the walk and were staring 
 after him. He was glad that they 
 could not see his face, his trembling 
 
154 GEORGE "8 MOTHER. 
 
 lips, his eyes wavering in fear. He 
 stopped at the door of his home and 
 stared at the panel as if he saw written 
 thereon a word. A moment later he 
 entered. His eye comprehended the 
 room in a frightened glance. 
 
 His mother sat gazing out at the op- 
 posite walls and windows. She was 
 leaning her head upon the back of the 
 chair. Her face was overspread with a 
 singular pallor, but the glance of her 
 eyes was strong and the set of her lips 
 was tranquil. 
 
 He felt an unspeakable thrill of 
 thanksgiving at seeing her seated there 
 calmly. " Why, mother, they said yeh 
 was sick," he cried, going toward her 
 impetuously. " What's th' matter ? " 
 
 She smiled at him. "Oh, it ain't 
 nothin' ! I on'y got kinda dizzy, that's 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 155 
 
 all." Her voice was sober aiid had the 
 ring of vitality in it. 
 
 He noted her common-place air. 
 There was no alarm or pain in her 
 tones, but the misgivings of the street, 
 the prophetic twinges of his nerves 
 made him still hesitate. " Well are 
 you sure it ain't? They scared me 
 'bout t' death." 
 
 "No, it ain't anything, o'ny some 
 sorta dizzy feelin'. I fell down b'hind 
 th' stove. Missis Callahan, she came an' 
 picked me up. I must 'a laid there fer 
 quite a while. Th' docter said he 
 guessed I'd be all right in a couple 'a 
 hours. I don't feel nothin' ! " 
 
 Kelcey heaved a great sigh of relief. 
 " Lord, I was scared." He began to 
 beam joyously, since he was escaped 
 from his fright. "Why, I couldn't 
 
156 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 think what had happened," he told 
 her. 
 
 "Well, it ain't nothin'," she said. 
 
 He stood about awkwardly, keeping 
 his eyes fastened upon her in a sort of 
 surprise, as if he had expected to dis- 
 cover that she had vanished. The re- 
 action from his panic was a thrill of 
 delicious contentment. He took a chair 
 and sat down near her, but presently he 
 jumped up to ask : " There ain't nothin' 
 I can get fer yeh, is ther ? " He looked 
 at her eagerly. In his eyes shone love 
 and joy. If it were not for the shame 
 of it he would have called her endearing 
 names. 
 
 " No, ther ain't nothin'," she an- 
 swered. Presently she continued, in a 
 conversational way, "Yeh ain't found 
 no work yit, have yeh ? " 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 157 
 
 The shadow of his past fell upon him 
 then and he became suddenly morose. 
 At last he spoke in a sentence that was 
 a vow, a declaration of change. "No, 
 I ain't, but I'm goin' t' hunt fer it hard, 
 you bet." 
 
 She understood from his tone that 
 he was making peace with her. She 
 smiled at him gladly. "Yer a good 
 boy, George ! " A radiance from the 
 stars lit her face. 
 
 Presently she asked, " D' yeh think 
 yer old boss would take yeh on ag'in if 
 I went t' see him?" 
 
 "No," said Kelcey, at once. "It 
 wouldn't do no good ! They got all th' 
 men they want. There ain't no room 
 there. It wouldn't do no good." He 
 ceased to beam for a moment as he 
 thought of certain disclosures. "I'm 
 
158 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 goin' t' try to git work everywheres. 
 I'm goin' t' make a wild break t' git a 
 job, an' if there's one anywheres I'll 
 get it." 
 
 She smiled at him again. "That's 
 right, George ! " 
 
 When it came supper -time he 
 dragged her in her chair over to the 
 table and then scurried to and fro to 
 prepare a meal for her. She laughed 
 gleefully at him. He was awkward and 
 densely ignorant. He exaggerated his 
 helplessness sometimes until she was 
 obliged to lean back in her chair to 
 laugh. Afterward they sat by the win- 
 dow. Her hand rested upon his hair. 
 
XVI. 
 
 WHEN Kelcey went to borrow money 
 from old Bleecker, Jones and the others, 
 he discovered that he was below them 
 in social position. Old Bleecker said 
 gloomily that he did not see how he 
 could loan money at that time. When 
 Jones asked him to have a drink, his 
 tone was careless. O'Connor recited 
 at length some bewildering financial 
 troubles of his own. In them all he 
 saw that something had been reversed. 
 They remained silent upon many oc- 
 casions, when they might have grunted 
 in sympathy for him. 
 
 As he passed along the street near 
 
160 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 his home he perceived Fidsey Corcoran 
 and another of the gang. They made 
 eloquent signs. " Are yeh wid us ? " 
 
 He stopped and looked at them. 
 " What's wrong with yeh? " 
 
 " Are yeh wid us er not," demanded 
 Fidsey. "New barkeep'! Big can! 
 We got it over in d' lot. Big can, I tell 
 yeh." He drew a picture in the air, so 
 to speak, with his enthusiastic ringers. 
 
 Kelcey turned dejectedly homeward. 
 " Oh, I guess not, this roun'." 
 
 "What's d' matter wi'che?" said 
 Fidsey. "Yer gittin' t' be a reg'lar 
 willie ! Come ahn, I tell yeh ! Youse 
 gits one smoke at d' can b'cause yeh 
 b'longs t' d' gang, an' yeh don't wanta 
 give it up widout er scrap ! See ? Some 
 udder John 11 git yer smoke. Come 
 ahn ! " 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 161 
 
 When they arrived at the place among 
 the bowlders in the vacant lot, one of 
 the band had a huge and battered tin- 
 pail tilted afar up. His throat worked 
 convulsively. He was watched keenly 
 and anxiously by five or six others. 
 Their eyes followed carefully each frac- 
 tion of distance that the pail was lifted. 
 They were very silent. 
 
 Fidsey burst out violently as he per- 
 ceived what was in progress. "Heh, 
 Tim, yeh big sojer, let go d' can ! What 
 'a yeh tink ! Wese er in dis ! Le' go 
 dat ! " 
 
 He who was drinking made several 
 angry protesting contortions of his 
 throat. Then he put down the pail and 
 swore. " Who's a big sojer ? I ain't 
 gittin' more'n me own smoke ! Yer 
 
 too bloomin' swift ! Ye'd tink yeh was 
 11 
 
162 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 d' on'y mug what owned dis can ! Close 
 yer face while I gits me smoke ! " 
 
 He took breath for a moment and 
 then returned the pail to its tilted 
 position. Eidsey went to him and 
 worried and clamored. He interfered 
 so seriously with the action of drink- 
 ing that the other was obliged to re- 
 lease the pail again for fear of chok- 
 ing. 
 
 Fidsey grabbed it and glanced swiftly 
 at the contents. " Dere ! Dat's what 
 I was hollerin' at ! Lookut d' beer ! 
 Not 'nough t' wet yer t'roat ! Yehs 
 can't have notin' on d' level wid youse 
 damn' tanks ! Youse was a reg'lar 
 resevoiy, Tim Connigan ! Look what 
 yeh lef us! Ah, say, youse was a 
 dandy! What 'a yeh tink we ah? 
 Willies ? Don' we want no smoke ? 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 163 
 
 Say, lookut dat can ! It's drier'n hell ! 
 What 'a yeh tink ? " 
 
 Tim glanced in at the beer. Then he 
 said: "Well, d' mug what come b'fore 
 me, he on'y lef me dat much. Blue 
 Billee, he done d' swallerin'! I on'y 
 hadatas'e!" 
 
 Blue Billie, from his seat near, called 
 out in wrathful protest : " Yeh lie, 
 Tim. I never had more'n a mouf-f ul ! " 
 An inspiration evidently came to him 
 then, for his countenance suddenly 
 brightened, and, arising, he went toward 
 the pail. "I ain't had me reg'lar 
 smoke yit! Guess I come in aheader 
 Fidsey, don' I?" 
 
 Fidsey, with a sardonic smile, swung 
 the pail behind him. " I guess nit ! 
 Not dis minuet ! Youse hadger smoke. 
 If yeh ain't, yeh don't git none. See ? " 
 
164: GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 Blue Billie confronted Fidsey deter- 
 minedly. D' 'ell I don't!" 
 
 "Nit," said Fidsey. 
 
 Billee sat down again. 
 
 Fidsey drank his portion. Then he 
 manoeuvred skilfully before the crowd 
 until Kelcey and the other youth took 
 their shares. "Youse er a mob 'a 
 tanks," he told the gang. "Nobody 'ud 
 git not'in' if dey wasn't on t' yehs ! " 
 
 Blue Billie's soul had been smoul- 
 dering in hate against Fidsey. "Ah, 
 shut up ! Youse ain't gota take care 
 'a dose two mugs, dough. Youse had- 
 ger smoke, ain't yeh? Den yer tr'u. 
 G' home ! " 
 
 " Well, I hate t' see er bloke use 'im- 
 self fer a tank," said Fidsey. "But 
 youse don't wanta go jolly in' 'round 
 'bout d' can, Blue, er youse'll git done." 
 
GEORGE' 8 MOTHER. 165 
 
 "Who'll do me?" demanded Blue 
 Billie, casting his eye about him. 
 
 " Kel' will," said Fidsey, bravely. 
 
 "D"ellhewill?" 
 
 "Dat's what he will!" 
 
 Blue Billie made the gesture of a 
 warrior. " He never saw d' day 'a his 
 life dat he could do me little finger. If 
 'e says much t' me, I'll push 'is face all 
 over d' lot." 
 
 Fidsey called to Kelcey. " Say, Kel, 
 hear what dis mug is chewin' ? " 
 
 Kelcey was apparently deep in other 
 matters. His back was half -turned. 
 
 Blue Billie spoke to Fidsey in a bat- 
 tleful voice. " Did 'e ever say 'e could 
 dome?" 
 
 Fidsey said : " Soitenly 'e did. Youse 
 is dead easy, 'e says. He says he kin 
 punch holes in you, Blue ! " 
 
166 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 " When did 'e say it?" 
 
 " Oh any time. Youse is a cinch, 
 Kel' says." 
 
 Blue Billie walked over to Kelcey. 
 The others of the band followed him 
 exchanging joyful glances. 
 
 " Did youse say yeh could do me ? " 
 
 Kelcey slowly turned, but he kept his 
 eyes upon the ground. He heard Fid- 
 sey darting among the others telling of 
 his prowess, preparing them for the 
 downfall of Blue Billie. He stood heav- 
 ily on one foot and moved his hands 
 nervously. Finally he said, in a low 
 growl, " Well, what if I did ? " 
 
 The sentence sent a happy thrill 
 through the band. It was the for- 
 midable question. Blue Billie braced 
 himself. Upon him came the respon- 
 sibility of the next step. The gang 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 167 
 
 fell back a little upon all sides. They 
 looked expectantly at Blue Billie ! 
 
 He walked forward with a deliberate 
 step until his face was close to Kel- 
 cey. 
 
 " Well, if you did," he said, with a 
 snarl between his teeth, " I'm goin' t' 
 t'ump d' life outa yeh right heh ! " 
 
 A little boy, wild of eye and puffing, 
 came down the slope as from an explo- 
 sion. He burst out in a rapid treble, 
 " Is dat Kelcey feller here ? Say, yeh 
 ol' woman's sick again. Dey want 
 yeh! Yeh's better run! She's awful 
 sick!" 
 
 The gang turned with loud growls. 
 " Ah, git outa here ! " Fidsey threw a 
 stone at the little boy and chased him 
 a short distance, but he continued to 
 clamor, "Youse better come, Kelcey 
 
168 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 feller! She's awful sick! She was 
 hollerin'! Dey been lookin' fer yeh 
 over'n hour ! " In his eagerness he re- 
 turned part way, regardless of Fidsey ! 
 
 Kelsey had moved away from Blue 
 Billie ! He said : " I guess I'd better 
 go!" They howled at him. "Well," 
 he continued, " I can't I don't wanta 
 I don't wanta leave me mother be 
 she " 
 
 His words were drowned in the 
 chorus of their derision. " Well, looka- 
 here" he would begin and at each time 
 their cries and screams ascended. They 
 dragged at Blue Billie. "Go fer 'im, 
 Blue! Slug'im! Go aim!" 
 
 Kelcey went slowly away while they 
 were urging Blue Billie to do a decisive 
 thing. Billie stood fuming and blus- 
 tering and explaining himself. When 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 169 
 
 Kelcey had achieved a considerable dis- 
 tance from him, he stepped forward a 
 few paces and hurled a terrible oath. 
 Kelcey looked back darkly. 
 
XVII. 
 
 WHEN he entered the chamber of 
 death, he was brooding over the recent 
 encounter and devising extravagant 
 revenges upon Blue Billie and the 
 others. 
 
 The little old woman was stretched 
 upon her bed. Her face and hands 
 were of the hue of the blankets. Her 
 hair, seemingly of a new and wondrous 
 grayness, hung over her temples in 
 whips and tangles. She was sicken- 
 ingly motionless, save for her eyes, 
 which rolled and swayed in maniacal 
 glances. 
 
 A young doctor had just been admin- 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 171 
 
 istering medicine. "There," he said, 
 with a great satisfaction, "I guess 
 that'll do her good ! " As he went 
 briskly toward the door he met Kelcey. 
 "Oh," he said. "Son?" 
 
 Kelcey had that in his throat which 
 was like fur. When he forced his 
 voice, the words came first low and 
 then high as if they had broken through 
 something. " Will she will she 
 
 The doctor glanced back at the bed. 
 She was watching them as she would 
 have watched ghouls, and muttering. 
 " Can't tell," he said. " She's wonder- 
 ful woman! Got more vitality than 
 you and I together ! Can't tell ! May 
 may not! Good-day! Back in two 
 hours." 
 
 In the kitchen Mrs. Callahan was 
 feverishly dusting the furniture, polish- 
 
172 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 ing this and that. She arranged every- 
 thing in decorous rows. She was pre- 
 paring for the coming of death. She 
 looked at the floor as if she longed to 
 scrub it. 
 
 The doctor paused to speak in an 
 undertone to her, glancing at the bed. 
 When he departed she labored with a 
 renewed speed. 
 
 Kelcey approached his mother. 
 From a little distance he called to her. 
 " Mother mother " He proceeded 
 with caution lest this mystic being 
 upon the bed should clutch at him. 
 
 " Mother mother don't yeh know 
 me?" He put forth apprehensive, 
 shaking fingers and touched her hand. 
 
 There were two brilliant steel-colored 
 points upon her eyeballs. She was 
 staring off at something sinister. 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 173 
 
 Suddenly she turned to her son in 
 a wild babbling appeal. "Help me! 
 Help me! Oh, help me! I see them 
 coming." 
 
 Kelcey called to her as to a distant 
 place. "Mother! Mother!" She 
 looked at him, and then there began 
 within her a struggle to reach him with 
 her mind. She fought with some im- 
 placable power whose fingers were in 
 her brain. She called to Kelcey in 
 stammering, incoherent cries for help. 
 
 Then she again looked away. "Ah, 
 there they come ! There they come ! 
 Ah, look look loo " She arose to 
 a sitting posture without the use of 
 her arms. 
 
 Kelcey felt himself being choked. 
 When her voice pealed forth in a 
 scream he saw crimson curtains mov- 
 
174 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 ing before his eyes. "Mother oh, 
 mother there's nothin' there's noth- 
 in " 
 
 She was at a kitchen-door with a 
 dish-cloth in her hand. Within there 
 had just been a clatter of crockery. 
 Down through the trees of the orchard 
 she could see a man in a field plough- 
 ing. "Bill o-o-oh, Bill have yeh 
 seen Georgie ? Is he out there with you ? 
 Georgie ! Georgie ! Come right here 
 this minnet ! Bight this minnet ! " 
 
 She began to talk to some people in 
 the room. " I want t' know what yeh 
 want here ! I want yeh t' git out ! I 
 don't want yeh here ! I don't feel good 
 t'-day, an' I don't want yeh here ! I 
 don't feel good t'-day ! I want yeh t' 
 git out!" Her voice became peevish. 
 " Go away ! Go away ! Go away ! " 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 175 
 
 Kelcey lay in a chair. His nerveless 
 arms allowed his fingers to sweep the 
 floor. He became so that he could not 
 hear the chatter from the bed, but he 
 was always conscious of the ticking of 
 the little clock out on the kitchen shelf. 
 
 When he aroused, the pale-faced but 
 plump young clergyman was before 
 him. 
 
 " My poor lad " began this latter. 
 
 The little old woman lay still with 
 her eyes closed. On the table at the 
 head of the bed was a glass containing 
 a water -like medicine. The reflected 
 lights made a silver star on its side. 
 The two men sat side by side, waiting. 
 Out in the kitchen Mrs. Callahan had 
 taken a chair by the stove and was 
 waiting. 
 
 Kelcey began to stare at the wall- 
 
176 GEORGE'S MOTHER. 
 
 paper. The pattern was clusters of 
 brown roses. He felt them like hid- 
 eous crabs crawling upon his brain. 
 
 Through the door- way he saw the oil- 
 cloth covering of the table catching a 
 glimmer from the warm afternoon sun. 
 The window disclosed a fair, soft sky, 
 like blue enamel, and a fringe of chim- 
 neys and roofs, resplendent here and 
 there. An endless roar, the eternal 
 trample of the marching city, came 
 mingled with vague cries. At intervals 
 the woman out by the stove moved rest- 
 lessly and coughed. 
 
 Over the transom from the hall-way 
 came two voices. 
 
 " Johnnie!" 
 
 "Wot!" 
 
 " You 'come right here t' me ! I 
 want yehs t' go t' d' store fer me ! " 
 
GEORGE'S MOTHER. 177 
 
 "Ah, ma, send Sally!" 
 
 " No, I will not ! You come right 
 here!" 
 
 " All right, in a minnet ! " 
 
 " Johnnie ! " 
 
 " In a minnet, I tell yeh ! " 
 
 "Johnnie " There was the sound 
 of a heavy tread, and later a boy 
 squealed. Suddenly the clergyman 
 started to his feet. He rushed forward 
 and peered. The little old woman was 
 dead. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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