No answer from Richard had ever been received.
Instead, came the news that the boy had disappeared, run away; the last
seen of him was boarding a train for the West. All efforts at tracing
him had proved futile, and to this day they knew not where he was.
Mother had never smiled again but had drooped and faded day by day.
Time and again Jane had urged moving to more congenial surroundings, to
a flat or cottage in the suburbs, to fresh air and sunshine. But no,
mother would not have it so; Richard might come back some day and how
could he find them if they moved away from the old home in the tenement
house?
Even now, when she is dying, her last thought is not for the girl beside
her, the girl who has toiled so patiently, watched so faithfully,
sacrificed all so generously, for mother and for Richard. Even in
delirium, her thoughts are only for the absent one; her words, that
insistent, heartrending cry for "Richard, Richard, Richard." Jane bows
her head in anguish but whispers low: "Thy will be done."
III.
Long since, the factory whistle has sounded the signal for release from
the day's toil. The workers in the factory, a small army of men and
women, boys and girls, poured forth from the doorways of the huge
buildings, swarmed up the street, laughing and chattering, and dispersed
to their several homes.
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