A group of urchins were intent
upon the side door of a saloon.
Expectancy gleamed from their
eyes. They were twisting their
fingers in excitement.
"Here she comes," yelled
one of them suddenly.
The group of urchins burst
instantly asunder and its individual
fragments were spread in a wide,
respectable half circle about
the point of interest. The saloon
door opened with a crash, and
the figure of a woman appeared
upon the threshold. Her grey
hair fell in knotted masses about
her shoulders. Her face was crimsoned
and wet with perspiration. Her
eyes had a rolling glare.
"Not a damn
cent more of me money will
yehs ever get, not
a damn cent. I spent me money
here fer t'ree years an' now
yehs tells me yeh'll sell me
no more stuff! T'hell wid yeh,
Johnnie Murckre! 'Disturbance'?
Disturbance be damned! T'hell
wid yeh, Johnnie--"
The door received a kick of
exasperation from within and
the woman lurched heavily out
on the sidewalk.
The gamins in the half-circle
became violently agitated. They
began to dance about and hoot
and yell and jeer. Wide dirty
grins spread over each face.
The woman made a furious dash
at a particularly outrageous
cluster of little boys. They
laughed delightedly and scampered
off a short distance, calling
out over their shoulders to her.
She stood tottering on the curb-stone
and thundered at them.
"Yeh devil's kids," she
howled, shaking red fists.
The little
boys whooped in glee. As she
started up the street they fell
in behind and marched uproariously.
Occasionally she wheeled about
and made charges on them. They
ran nimbly out of reach and taunted
her.
In the frame of a gruesome
doorway she stood for a moment
cursing them. Her hair straggled,
giving her crimson features a
look of insanity. Her great fists
quivered as she shook them madly
in the air.
The urchins made terrific noises
until she turned and disappeared.
Then they filed quietly in the
way they had come.
The woman floundered about
in the lower hall of the tenement
house and finally stumbled up
the stairs. On an upper hall
a door was opened and a collection
of heads peered curiously out,
watching her. With a wrathful
snort the woman confronted the
door, but it was slammed hastily
in her face and the key was turned.
She stood for a few minutes,
delivering a frenzied challenge
at the panels.
"Come out in
deh hall, Mary Murphy, damn
yeh, if yehs want
a row. Come ahn, yeh overgrown
terrier, come ahn."
She began to kick the door
with her great feet. She shrilly
defied the universe to appear
and do battle. Her cursing trebles
brought heads from all doors
save the one she threatened.
Her eyes glared in every direction.
The air was full of her tossing
fists.
"Come ahn, deh hull damn gang
of yehs, come ahn," she roared
at the spectators. An oath or
two, cat-calls, jeers and bits
of facetious advice were given
in reply. Missiles clattered
about her feet.
"What deh hell's deh matter
wid yeh?" said a voice in the
gathered gloom, and Jimmie came
forward. He carried a tin dinner-
pail in his hand and under his
arm a brown truckman's apron
done in a bundle. "What deh hell's
wrong?" he demanded.
"Come out, all of yehs, come
out," his mother was howling. "Come
ahn an' I'll stamp her damn brains
under me feet."
"Shet yer face, an' come home,
yeh damned old fool," roared
Jimmie at her. She strided up
to him and twirled her fingers
in his face. Her eyes were darting
flames of unreasoning rage and
her frame trembled with eagerness
for a fight.
"T'hell wid yehs! An' who deh
hell are yehs? I ain't givin'
a snap of me fingers fer yehs," she
bawled at him. She turned her
huge back in tremendous disdain
and climbed the stairs to the
next floor.
Jimmie followed, cursing blackly.
At the top of the flight he seized
his mother's arm and started
to drag her toward the door of
their room.
"Come home, damn yeh," he
gritted between his teeth.
"Take yer hands off me! Take
yer hands off me," shrieked his
mother.
She raised
her arm and whirled her great
fist at her son's face.
Jimmie dodged his head and the
blow struck him in the back of
the neck. "Damn yeh," gritted
he again. He threw out his left
hand and writhed his fingers
about her middle arm. The mother
and the son began to sway and
struggle like gladiators.
"Whoop!" said
the Rum Alley tenement house.
The hall filled
with interested spectators.
"Hi, ol' lady,
dat was a dandy!"
"T'ree to one
on deh red!"
"Ah, stop yer
damn scrappin'!"
The door of the Johnson home
opened and Maggie looked out.
Jimmie made a supreme cursing
effort and hurled his mother
into the room. He quickly followed
and closed the door. The Rum
Alley tenement swore disappointedly
and retired.
The mother slowly gathered
herself up from the floor. Her
eyes glittered menacingly upon
her children.
"Here, now," said Jimmie, "we've
had enough of dis. Sit down,
an' don' make no trouble."
He grasped her arm, and twisting
it, forced her into a creaking
chair.
"Keep yer hands off me," roared
his mother again.
"Damn yer ol' hide," yelled
Jimmie, madly. Maggie shrieked
and ran into the other room.
To her there came the sound of
a storm of crashes and curses.
There was a great final thump
and Jimmie's voice cried: "Dere,
damn yeh, stay still." Maggie
opened the door now, and went
warily out. "Oh, Jimmie."
He was leaning against the
wall and swearing. Blood stood
upon bruises on his knotty fore-arms
where they had scraped against
the floor or the walls in the
scuffle. The mother lay screeching
on the floor, the tears running
down her furrowed face.
Maggie, standing in the middle
of the room, gazed about her.
The usual upheaval of the tables
and chairs had taken place. Crockery
was strewn broadcast in fragments.
The stove had been disturbed
on its legs, and now leaned idiotically
to one side. A pail had been
upset and water spread in all
directions.
The door opened
and Pete appeared. He shrugged
his shoulders. "Oh,
Gawd," he observed.
He walked over
to Maggie and whispered in
her ear. "Ah, what
deh hell, Mag? Come ahn and we'll
have a hell of a time."
The mother in the corner upreared
her head and shook her tangled
locks.
"Teh hell wid him and you," she
said, glowering at her daughter
in the gloom. Her eyes seemed
to burn balefully. "Yeh've gone
teh deh devil, Mag Johnson, yehs
knows yehs have gone teh deh
devil. Yer a disgrace teh yer
people, damn yeh. An' now, git
out an' go ahn wid dat doe-faced
jude of yours. Go teh hell wid
him, damn yeh, an' a good riddance.
Go teh hell an' see how yeh likes
it."
Maggie gazed long at her mother.
"Go teh hell
now, an' see how yeh likes
it. Git out. I won't
have sech as yehs in me house!
Get out, d'yeh hear! Damn yeh,
git out!"
The girl began to tremble.
At this instant
Pete came forward. "Oh,
what deh hell, Mag, see," whispered
he softly in her ear. "Dis all
blows over. See? Deh ol' woman
'ill be all right in deh mornin'.
Come ahn out wid me! We'll have
a hell of a time."
The woman on the floor cursed.
Jimmie was intent upon his bruised
fore-arms. The girl cast a glance
about the room filled with a
chaotic mass of debris, and at
the red, writhing body of her
mother.
"Go teh hell
an' good riddance."
She went.
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