That Printer of Udell's: A Story of the Middle West: Large Print

"O God, take ker' o' Dick -He'll sure have a tough time when I'm gone, -an' I'm er' goin'-mighty fast I reckon.-I know I aint done much ter brag on, -Lord, -but I aint had naryshow.-I allus 'low'd ter do ye better, -but hit's jes' kept me scratchin'-ter do fer me an'Dick, -an' somehow I aint had time-ter sarve-ye like I ought.-An' my man he's mostways-no 'count an' triflin', -Lord, -'cepten when he likers up, -an' then, -you knowhow he uses me an' Dick.-But Dick, he aint no ways ter blame-fer what his dad an'mammy is, -an' I ax ye-fair, -o Lord, -take ker o' him-fer-Jesus' sake-Amen.""Dick -O Dick, -whar are ye honey?"A hollow-cheeked wisp of a boy arose from the dark corner where he had been crouchinglike a frightened animal, and with cautious steps drew near the bed. Timidly he touched thewasted hand that lay upon the dirty coverlid."What ye want, maw?"The woman hushed her moaning and turned her face, upon which the shadow was alreadyfallen, toward the boy. "I'm er goin'-mighty fast, -Dicky," she said, in a voice that wasscarcely audible. "Whar's yer paw?"Bending closer to the face upon the pillow, the lad pointed with trembling finger towardthe other end of the cabin and whispered, while his eyes grew big with fear, "Sh-, he's fullergin. Bin down ter th' stillhouse all evenin'-Don't stir him, maw, er we'll git licked somemore. Tell me what ye want."But his only answer was that broken prayer as the sufferer turned to the wail again. "OLord, take ker o'-"A stick of wood in the fire-place burned in two and fell with a soft thud on the ashes; a leanhound crept stealthily to the boy's side and thrust a cold muzzle against his ragged jacket;in the cupboard a mouse rustled over the rude dishes and among the scanty handful ofprovisions.Then, cursing foully in his sleep, the drunkard stirred uneasily and the dog slunk beneaththe bed, while the boy stood shaking with fear until all was still again. Reaching out, hetouched once more that clammy hand upon the dirty coverlid. No movement answered tohis touch. Reaching farther, he cautiously laid his fingers upon the ashy-colored temple, 5awkwardly brushing back a thin lock of the tangled hair. The face, like the hand, was cold.With a look of awe and horror in his eyes, the child caught his parent by the shoulder andshook the lifeless form while he tried again and again to make her hear his w