His blustering angered the sergeant, who finally told him if he did not quiet down he would be locked in a cell.Susan interrupted, explained the situation, got Ashbel the necessary clothes and freed Etta and herself of his worse than useless presence.At Susan's suggestion such other men as had jobs were also fitted out after a fashion and sent away."You can take the addresses of their families if you send them anywhere during the day, and these men can come back here and find out where they've gone----" this was the plan she proposed to the captain, and he adopted it.As soon as the morning papers were about the city, aid of every kind began to pour in, with the result that before noon many of the families were better established than they had been before the fire.
Susan and Etta got some clothing, enough to keep them warm on their way through the streets to the hospital to which Brashear and his wife had been taken.Mrs.Brashear had died in the ambulance--of heart disease, the doctors said, but Susan felt it was really of the sense that to go on living was impossible.And fond of her though she was, she could not but be relieved that there was one less factor in the unsolvable problem.
"She's better, off" she said to Etta in the effort to console.
But Etta needed no consolation."Ever so much better off," she promptly assented."Mother hasn't cared about living since we had to give up our little home and become tenement house people.
And she was right."
As to Brashear, they learned that he was ill; but they did not learn until evening that he was dying of pneumonia.The two girls and Ashbel were admitted to the ward where he lay--one of a long line of sufferers in bare, clean little beds.Screens were drawn round his bed because he was dying.He had been suffering torments from the savage assaults of the pneumonia;but the pain had passed away now, so he said, though the dreadful sound of his breathing made Susan's heart flutter and her whole body quiver.
"Do you want a preacher or a priest?" asked the nurse.
"Neither," replied the old man in gasps and whispers."If there is a God he'll never let anybody from this hell of a world into his presence.They might tell him the truth about himself.""Oh, father, father!" pleaded Etta, and Ashbel burst into a fit of hysterical and terrified crying.
The old man turned his dying eyes on Susan.He rested a few minutes, fixing her gaze upon his with a hypnotic stare.Then he began again:
"You've got somethin' more'n a turnip on your shoulders.Listen to me.There was a man named Jesus once"--gasp--gasp--"You've heard about him, but you don't know about him"--gasp--gasp--"I'll tell you--listen.He was a low fellow--a workin' man--same trade as mine--born without a father--born in a horse trough--in a stable"--gasp--gasp--Susan leaned forward."Born without a father," she murmured, her eyes suddenly bright.
"That's him.Listen"--gasp--gasp--gasp--"He was a big feller--big brain--big heart--the biggest man that ever lived"--gasp--gasp--gasp--gas--"And he looked at this here hell of a world from the outside, he being an outcast and a low-down common workingman.And he _saw_--he did----"Yes, he saw!"--gasp--gasp--gasp--"And he said all men were brothers--and that they'd find it out some day.He saw that this world was put together for the strong and the cruel--that they could win out--and make the rest of us work for 'em for what they chose to give--like they work a poor ignorant horse for his feed and stall in a dirty stable----"gasp--gasp--gasp--"For the strong and the cruel," said Susan.
"And this feller Jesus--he set round the saloons and such places--publicans, they called 'em"--gasp--gasp--gasp--"And he says to all the poor ignorant slaves and such cattle, he says, `You're all brothers.Love one another'"--gasp--gasp--gasp--"`Love one another,' he says, `and learn to help each other and stand up for each other,' he says, `and hate war and fightin'
and money grabbin'----'"gasp--gasp--gasp--"`Peace on earth,' he says, `Know the truth, and the truth shall make you free'--and he saw there'd be a time"--the old man raised himself on one elbow--"Yes, by God--there _will_ be!--a time when men'll learn not to be beasts and'll be men--_men_, little gal!""Men," echoed Susan, her eyes shining, her bosom heaving.
"It ain't sense and it ain't right that everything should be for the few--for them with brains--and that the rest--the millions--should be tramped down just because they ain't so cruel or so `cute'--they and their children tramped down in the dirt.And that feller Jesus saw it.""Yes--yes," cried Susan."He saw it."
"I'll tell you what he was," said old Tom in a hoarse whisper.
"He wasn't no god.He was bigger'n that--bigger'n that, little gal! He was the first _man_ that ever lived.He said, `Give the weak a chance so as they kin git strong.' He says----"The dying man fell back exhausted.His eyes rolled wildly, closed; his mouth twitched, fell wide open; there came from his throat a sound Susan had never heard before, but she knew what it was, what it meant.
Etta and Ashbel were overwhelmed afresh by the disgrace of having their parents buried in Potter's Field--for the insurance money went for debts.They did not understand when Susan said, "I think your father'd have liked to feel that he was going to be buried there--because then he'll be with--with his Friend.
You know, _He_ was buried in Potter's Field." However, their grief was shortlived; there is no time in the lives of working people for such luxuries as grief--no more time than there is at sea when all are toiling to keep afloat the storm-racked sinking ship and one sailor is swept overboard.In comfortable lives a bereavement is a contrast; in the lives of the wretched it is but one more in the assailing army of woes.
