Even Twinetoes was affected
by the tense atmosphere. He murmured in his sleep and seemed somewhat
sobered, for his limbs took more natural positions on the bed. The
darkness was no longer a bar to vision. By now I could see quite
clearly; and so, I believe, could Mick.
The old woman was mumbling to the girl. "'S aw ri', mi dear. 'Av' a
drink o' this. W'll fix y'up aw ri'."
She had again dropped into the low uncertain voice of aimless senility.
The girl remained silent. Glasses clinked. The Boss, I could hear,
walked up and down the kitchen, busy with some final work of the night.
A confused murmur came from another corner; but I could not distinguish
the words: The dock rats were apparently discussing something.
Again that ripple of sound ascended the stairs, but this time there was
an added note of apprehension. It broke very faintly but pitifully,
before dying away to the sound of light footsteps. Half a dozen stairs
were pressed, then came a stumble and a girlish "A-ah." She recovered
herself as the hateful voice from behind said, "Aw ri', m'dear," and
older, surer feet felt the stairs and pushed on behind the girl.
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