Hush Now, Don't You Cry(106)

“I don’t know how the old woman managed going up and down this all day long,” he grunted to me. “The least that that Hannan guy could have done was to put in an elevator. All the newer houses have one now, you know. All the rage, it is.”

He stopped talking as the stairs went on. Finally we reach the window through which I had climbed, then up the last flight to the door to Kathleen’s rooms. It was firmly shut and my constable tapped on it before it was opened by yet another policeman.

“This lady has brought up their supper,” he said. “All right for her to bring it in? The girl’s not likely to be dangerous, is she?”

“See for yourself.” The constable opened wide the door to reveal Gus sitting on the floor with Kathleen lying with her head on Gus’s lap. She was sucking her thumb and had her arm around the big rag doll she called Colleen. Gus looked up, smiled, and put her finger to her lips.

“She’s almost asleep, I believe,” she said gently.

“I’ve brought you some supper. I thought they might forget you,” I said, as the constable put the tray on the table.

“Thank you. Most kind of you,” Gus said. “I must admit it seems as if I’ve been up here a fearfully long time.”

“Has nobody else been to see Kathleen?”

“That pompous policeman. Of course he got nowhere. He terrified her and she went to hide under her bed.”

“But her family hasn’t come to see her yet? Not her parents?”

Gus shook her head. “Perhaps the police have forbidden them to,” she suggested, as usual looking for the kindest explanation and dismissing the more logical one that they wanted nothing to do with her.

“Are you planning to stay with her all night?” I asked.

“I thought I might,” she said. “As you can see, she has really taken to me. Poor little soul, she was terrified. And do you know what? I don’t believe anybody has touched her or hugged her all the time she has been here. Or sung to her. You should have seen her face when I sang a lullaby. She looked as if an angel had just stepped out of Heaven.”

“You have a way with children,” I said.

“I seem to.” She smiled again and stroked Kathleen’s hair.

As I talked I pulled over a low table and put the two plates on it, so that Gus could eat without changing her position or disturbing the girl.

“Not particularly exciting fare,” Gus commented, prodding experimentally with her fork. “Or am I getting what the servants eat?”

“I got the impression that the chef is sulking or in mourning. Perhaps he fears he’s going to lose his job.”

“Then he should be working harder to impress.” Gus prodded at the meat. “This joint was cooked yesterday, I’ll wager. And reheated.”

Nonetheless she began to eat. The smell of food reached Kathleen. She sat up, started in fear when she saw me, and grabbed at Gus.

“This nice lady won’t hurt you,” Gus said. “See. She’s brought you food and a glass of milk. Do you see? Labby.”

Kathleen scrambled to her feet, took the glass, and drank greedily.

“What does ‘labby’ mean?” I asked.

“Her word for milk, I believe.”

“So you’re making progress with her speech?”

“A little.” She put down her fork. “She hasn’t said much—in shock, the poor little thing. But I have observed her interacting with her doll and a speech pattern is beginning to develop. Quite interesting. Not like our grammar at all. I plan to make notes and give a dissertation to the science club at Vassar.”

Kathleen had now fallen upon her food like a savage. Clearly manners had not been taught. I got the impression that Mrs. McCreedy had been caretaker but had believed what her employer had told her—that Kathleen was a dangerous imbecile and thus not worth educating.

“Eat nicely, Kathleen,” Gus said and demonstrated putting the fork daintily into her mouth. Kathleen complied.

“I don’t believe she is mentally impaired at all,” Gus said.

Suddenly there were screams outside. Kathleen leaped up and rushed to the window and looked down. “Mima!” she whimpered. “No boo Mima.”

“I think that’s what she called Mrs. McCreedy,” Gus said. “Mima.”

We looked out but couldn’t see where the scream had come from. Kathleen was shaking now. She scurried back to Gus and buried her head in Gus’s skirt.

“It’s all right,” Gus said calmly. “You’re quite safe. I won’t leave you.”

The policeman had come over to us. “You should leave now,” he said. “You don’t have permission to be here.”