the hole
in his head."

"Aw, no, dearie! Nobody ever made John Blaney do nothing he didn't want
to do. He's dead now and can't take up for hisself, but he was hard as
nails--even if he was my brother-in-law."

"'Sh-h-h, Cottie, little sister."

"I always say, Della, Gawd knows I ain't got a cinch! I hate the factory
like I hate a green devil, and you know what it is to live around maw's
doggin' and abuse, but it's like I tole Joe the other night: I wouldn't
marry the finest man livin' before I'd had my chance to try out what I
had my heart set on. I told him he could save his breath. I'm goin' to
take a chance on gettin' out of this dump--not on tyin' up to it."

"Joe's a good boy, Cottie. He's a saint alongside of what John was.
Steady fellows and foremen ain't layin' around loose, dearie. He's a
good boy, Cottie--none finer."

"Della! You ain't--"

"No; I ain't urgin' you, Cottie. I ain't sayin' you're not right to hold
off, but Joe's the finest boy in these parts, ain't he?"

"That ain't sayin' much. You wasn't a big-enough gambler, Della. You
remember how I begged you the night before the wedding to hold off. I
ain't goin' to make your mistake. You ought 'a' done what Lily
done--took a chance. Tessie says her pictures were all pasted up outside
of Indianapolis last week. Lily Divette in the 'Twinkling Belles.' If
Lily Maloney with her baby face and--"

"I--I stuck to John to the end, though--didn't I, Cottie? Nobody can say
I didn't stick to him--can they, Cottie?"

"No, no! Now don't go gettin' excited again, dearie."

"Oh, Gawd, Gawd, Cottie. I--I feel--so--so--queer!"

"Yes, darlin', I know!"

The cryptic quiescence of death hung over the unpainted pine bedchamber
and chilled their skin like damp in a cave seeps through clothing. From
the far side of the bed a lamp wavered against a tin reflector and
danced through their hair like firelight in copper; wind galloped over
the flat country, shook the box-shaped house, and whinnied on every
flue.

Cottie, whose head was Tiziano's Flora yet more radiant, held her
sister's equally radiant head close to her warm bosom, and through the
calico of her open-at-the-throat waist, her heart pumped the
organ-prelude of Life--Life in the midst of Death.

"Della darlin'--don't--don't be afraid to talk to me. Ain't--ain't I
your--sister?"

"What--what--"

"I--I know--what you're thinkin', Della--"

"'Sh-h-h; not now!"

"You're thinkin' that you're--that y