note of hatred。 And what she seemed to see in it； confronting her； were
the hatred and despair of her own soul！ The man might have been a
Hungarian or a Pole； the breadth of his chin was accentuated by a wide；
black moustache； his attitude was tense；that of a maddened beast ready
to spring at the soldier in front of him。 He was plainly one of those
who had reached the mental limit of endurance。
In contrast with this foreigner； confronting him； a young lieutenant
stood motionless； his head cocked on one side； his hand grasping the club
held a little behind him； his glance meeting the other's squarely； but
with a different quality of defiance。 All his faculties were on the
alert。 He wore no overcoat； and the uniform fitting close to his figure；
the broad…brimmed campaign hat of felt served to bring into relief the
physical characteristics of the American Anglo…Saxon； of the
individualist who became the fighting pioneer。 But Janet； save to
register the presence of the intense antagonism between the two； scarcely
noticed her fellow countryman。。。。 Every moment she expected to see the
black man spring；and yet movement would have marred the drama of that
consuming hatred。。。。
Then； by one of those bewildering； kaleidoscopic shifts to which crowds
are subject； the scene changed； more troops arrived； little by little the
people were dispersed to drift together again by chancein smaller
numbersseveral blocks away。 Perhaps a hundred and fifty were scattered
over the space formed by the intersection of two streets； where three or
four special policemen with night sticks urged them on。 Not a riot； or
anything approaching it。 The police were jeered； but the groups；
apparently； had already begun to scatter； when from the triangular
vestibule of a saloon on the corner darted a flame followed by an echoing
report； a woman bundled up in a shawl screamed and sank on the snow。 For
an instant the little French…Canadian policeman whom the shot had missed
gazed stupidly down at her。。。。
As Janet ran along the dark pavements the sound of the shot and of the
woman's shriek continued to ring in her ears。 At last she stopped in
front of the warehouse beyond Mr。 Tiernan's shop； staring at the darkened
windows of the flatof the front room in which her mother now slept
alone。 For a minute she stood looking at these windows； as though
hypnotized by some message they conveyedthe answer to a question
suggested by the incident that had aroused and terrified her。 They drew
her； as in a trance； across the street； she opened the glass…panelled
door； remembering mechanically the trick it had of not quite closing；
turned and pushed it to and climbed the stairs。 In the diningroom the
metal lamp； brightly polished； was burning as usual； its light falling on
the chequered red table…cloth； on her father's empty chair； on that
somewhat battered heirloom； the horsehair sofa。 All was so familiar； and
yet so amazingly unfamiliar； so silent！ At this time Edward should be
reading the Banner； her mother bustling in and out； setting the table for
supper。 But not a dish was set。 The ticking of the ancient clock only
served to intensify the silence。 Janet entered； almost on tiptoe； made
her way to the kitchen door； and looked in。 The stove was polished； the
pans bright upon the wall； and Hannah was seated in a corner； her hands
folded across a spotless apron。 Her scant hair was now pure white； her
dress seemed to have fallen away from her wasted neck； which was like a
trefoil column。
〃Is that you； Janet？ You hain't seen anything of your father？〃
The night before Janet had heard this question； and she had been puzzled
as to its meaningwhether in the course of the day she had seen her
father； or whether Hannah thought he was coming home。
〃He's at the mill； mother。 You know he has to stay there。〃
〃I know；〃 replied Hannah； in a tone faintly reminiscent of the old
aspersion。 〃But I've got everything ready for him in case he should
comeany timeif the strikers hain't killed him。〃
〃But he's safe where he is。〃
〃I presume they will try to kill him； before they get through；〃 Hannah
continued evenly。 〃But in case he should come at any time； and I'm not
here； you tell him all those Bumpus papers are put away in the drawer of
that old chest； in the corner。 I can't think what he'd do without those
papers。 That is；〃 she added； 〃if you're here yourself。〃
〃Why shouldn't you be here？〃 asked Janet； rather sharply。
〃I dunno； I seem to have got through。〃 She glanced helplessly around the
kitchen。 〃There don't seem to be much left to keep me alive。。。。 I guess
you'll be wanting your supper； won't you？ You hain't often home these
dayswhatever it is you're doing。 I didn't expect you。〃
Janet did not answer at once。
〃II have to go out again； mother；〃 she said。
Hannah accepted the answer as she had accepted every other negative in
life； great and small。
〃Well； I guessed you would。〃
Janet made a step toward her。
〃Mother！〃 she said； but Hannah gazed at her uncomprehendingly。 Janet
stooped convulsively； and kissed her。 Straightening up； she stood
looking down at her mother for a few moments； and went out of the room；
pausing in the dining…room； to listen； but Hannah apparently had not
stirred。 She took the box of matches from its accustomed place on the
shelf beside the clock； entered the dark bedroom in the front of the
flat； closing the door softly behind her。 The ghostly blue light from a
distant arc came slanting in at the window； glinting on the brass knobs
of the chest of drawers…another Bumpus heirloom。 She remembered that
chest from early childhood； it was one of the few pieces that； following
them in all their changes of residence； had been faithful to the end： she
knew everything in it； and the place for everything。 Drawing a match
from the box； she was about to turn on the gasbut the light from the
arc would suffice。 As she made her way around the walnut bed she had a
premonition of poignant anguish as yet unrealized； of anguish being held
at bay by a stronger； fiercer； more imperative emotion now demanding
expression； refusing at last to be denied。 She opened the top drawer of
the chest； the drawer in which Hannah； breaking tradition； had put the
Bumpus genealogy。 Edward had never kept it there。 Would the other
things be in place？ Groping with her hands in the left…hand corner； her
fingers clasped exultantly something heavy； something wrapped carefully
in layers of flannel。 She had feared her father might have taken it to
the mill！ She drew it out； unwound the flannel； and held to the light an
old…fashioned revolver； the grease glistening along its barrel。 She
remembered； too； that the cartridges had lain beside it； and thrusting
her hand once more into the drawer found the box； extracting several； and
replacing the rest； closed the drawer； and crept through the dining…room
to her bedroom； where she lit the gas in order to examine the weapon
finally contriving； more by accident than skill； to break it。 The
cartridges； of course； fitted into the empty cylinder。 But before
inserting them she closed the pistol once more； cocked it； and held it
out。 Her arm trembled violently as she pulled the trigger。 Could she do
it？ As though to refute this doubt of her ability to carry out an act
determined upon； she broke the weapon once more； loaded and closed it；
and thrust it in the pocket of her coat。 Then； washing the grease from
her hands； she put on her gloves； and was about to turn out the light
when she saw reflected in the glass the red button of the I。W。W。 still
pinned on her coat。 This she tore off； and flung on the bureau。
When she had kissed her mother； when she had stood hesitatingly in the
darkness of the familiar front bedroom in the presence of unsummoned
memories of a home she had believed herself to resent and despise； she
had nearly faltered。 But once in the street； this weakness suddenly
vanished； was replaced by a sense of wrong that now took complete and
furious possession of her； driving her like a gale at her back。 She
scarcely felt on her face the fine rain that had begun to fall once more。
Her feet were accustomed to the way。 When she had turned down West
Street and almost gained the canal； it was with a shock of surprise that
she found herself confronted by a man in a long cape who held a rifle and
barred her path。 She stared at him as at an apparition。
〃You can't get by here；〃 he said。 〃Don't you know that？〃
She did not reply。 He continued to look at her； and presently asked； in
a gentler tone：
〃Where did you wish to go； lady？〃
〃Into the mill；〃 she replied； 〃to the offices。〃
〃But there can't anybody go through here unless they have a pass。 I'm
sorry； but that's the order。〃
Her answer came so readily as to surprise her。
〃I was Mr。 Ditmar's private stenographer。 I have to see him。〃
The sentry hesitated； and then addressed another soldier； who was near
the bridge。
〃Hi； sergeant！〃 he called。 The sergeant came upa conscientious Boston
clerk who had joined the militia from a sense of duty and a need for
exercise。 While the sentry explained the matter he gazed at Janet。 Then
be said politely：
〃I'm sorry； Miss； but I can't disobey orders。〃
〃But can't you send word to Mr。 Ditmar； and tell him I want to see him？〃
she asked。
〃Why； I guess so；〃 he answered； after a moment。 〃What name shall I say？〃
〃Miss Bumpus。〃
〃Bumpus；〃 he repeated。 〃That's the gatekeeper's name。〃
〃I'm his daughterbut I want to see Mr。 Ditmar。〃
〃Well；〃 said the sergeant； 〃I'm sure it's all right； but I'll have to
send in anyway。 Orders are orders。 You understand？〃
She nodded as he departed。 She saw him cross the bridge like a ghost
through the white mist rising from the canal。 And through the mist she
could make out the fortresslike mass of the mill itself； and the blurred；
distorted lights in the paymaster's offices smeared on the white curtain
of the vapour。
〃Nasty weather；〃 the sentry remarked； in friendly fashion。 He appeared
now； despite his uniform； as a good…natured； ungainly youth。
Janet nodded。
〃You'd ought to have brought an umbrella；〃