From the Valley of the Missing — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
From the Valley of the Missing
John Stuart Mill · en
Flukey was too ill, as he stumbled along, to dread the outcome of their
act of theft. He realized only that a beautiful lady was leading Flea to
a place where her hunger could be satisfied, and, as he felt the warmth
of Ann's fingers permeate his own famished body, a great courage urged
him forward. He would never again steal at Lon's command, and Flea would
have to dread Lem no more! Something infinitely sweet, like new-coming
life, entered his soul. It was the first exquisite joy that had come to
Flukey Cronk. He stopped and disengaged his hand, to press it to his
side as a pain made him gasp for breath. Then of a sudden he sank to the
polished floor, still clinging to Snatchet.
"Missus," he muttered, "I can't walk no more. Jest ye leave me here and
git the grub for Flea."
Flea turned sharply. "I don't eat when ye're sick, Fluke. The Prince
says as how ye can sleep in the barn, and mebbe--mebbe he'll let me work
for the victuals Snatchet and Squeaky stole."
Flea added this hopefully.
"Children," said Ann in a smothered voice, "listen to me! You're both
welcome to all you've had, and more. The little dog and pig were welcome
too."
Tears rose under her lids, and she turned her head away, that the twins
might not see them. Ann Shellington, like her brother, had never before
seen human misery depicted in small lives. At the mention of his dog,
Flukey opened his eyes and turned his gaze upward.
"Thank ye, Lady," said he, "thank ye for what ye said about Snatchet.
Ain't he a pink peach of a dorg, Ma'm?"
Ann inclined her head gently, glancing dubiously over the yellow pup.
She could not openly admit that Snatchet resembled anything beautiful
she had ever seen, when the boy, his lips twitching with agony, held his
pet up toward her.
"Ye can take him, Ma'm," groaned Flukey. "He only bites bad 'uns like
Lem Crabbe."
Snatchet, feeling the importance of the moment, lifted his head and shot
forth a slavering tongue. As it came in contact with her fingers, Miss
Shellington drew back a little. She had been used to slender-limbed,
soft-coated dogs; this small, shivering mongrel, touching her flesh with
a tongue roughly beaded, sent a tremor of disgust over her. Flea stepped
forward, took Snatchet from her brother, and tucked him away under the
arm opposite the one Squeaky occupied.
"Ye'll go to the barn, Fluke," she said, "and ye'll go damn quick! The
lady'll let ye, and Snatchet'll go with ye. Squeaky sleeps with me."
Ann coughed embarrassedly. "Children," she began, "we couldn't let the
dog and pig sleep in the house; neither could we allow you to sleep in
the barn. So, if you will let the coachman take your pets, I'll see that
you, Boy, go into a warm bed, and you," Ann turned to Flea, "must have
some supper and other clothes. Your brother is very ill, I believe, and
I think we ought to have a doctor."