The Sagebrusher | Page 8

she still had in her hands the long knitting needles, the ball of
yellowish yarn, the partially knitted garment, which of late had been so
common in America.
"Aw, Sis, cut it out!" grumbled Annie, and reached to take the knitting
away from her friend. "The war's over, thank God! Give yourself a
chanct. Get warm first, anyways. You'll ruin your eyes--didn't the
doctor tell you so? You got one bum lamp right now."
"Worse things than having trouble with your eyes, Annie."
"Huh! It'll help you a lot to have your eyes go worse, won't it?"
"But I can't forget. I--I can't seem to forget Dan, my brother." Mary's
voice trailed off vaguely. "He's the last kin I had. Well, I was all he had,
his next of kin, so they sent me his decoration. And I'm the last of our
family--and a woman--and--and not seeing very well. Annie, he was
my reliance--and I was his, poor boy, because of his trouble, that made
him a half-cripple, though he got into the flying corps at last. I'm alone.
And, Annie--that was what was the trouble at the store. I'm--it's my
eyes."
They both sat for a long time in silence. Her room-mate fidgeted about,
walked away, fiddled with her hair before the dull little mirror at the
dresser. At length she turned.
"Sis," said she, "it ain't no news. I know, and I've knew it. I got to talk
some sense to you."
The dark glasses turned her way, unwaveringly, bravely.
"You're going to lose your job, Sis, as soon as the Christmas rush is
over," Annie finished. She saw the sudden shudder which passed

through the straight figure beside the stove.
"Oh, I know it's hard, but it's the truth. Now, listen. Your folks are all
dead. Your last one, Dan, your brother, is dead, and you got no one else.
It's just as well to face things. What I've got is yours, of course, but
how much have we got, together? What chanct has a girl got? And a
blind woman's a beggar, Sis. It's tough. But what are you going to do?
Girls is flocking back out of Washington. The war factories is closing.
There's thousands on the streets."
"Annie, what do you mean?"
"Oh, now, hush, Sis! Don't look at me that way, even through your
glasses. It hurts. We've just got to face things. You've got to live.
How?"
"Well, then," said Mary Warren, suddenly rising, her hands to her hot
cheeks, "well, then--and what then? I can't be a burden on you--you've
done more than your half ever since I first had to go to the doctor about
my eyes."
"Cut all that out, now," said Annie, her eyes ominous. "I done what
you'd a-done. But one girl can't earn enough for two, at ten per, and be
decent. Go out on the streets and see the boys still in their uniforms.
Every one's got a girl on his arm, and the best lookers, too. What then?
As for the love and marriage stuff--well----"
"As though you didn't know better yourself than to talk the way you
do!" said Mary Warren.
"I'm different from you, Mollie. I--I ain't so fine. You know why I liked
you? Because you was different; and I didn't come from much or have
much schooling. I've been to school to you--and you never knew it. I
owe you plenty, and you won't understand even that."
Mary only kissed her, but Annie broke free and went on.
"When they come to talk about the world going on, and folks marrying,

and raising children, after this war is over--you've got to hand it to them
that this duty stuff has got a strong punch behind it. Besides, the kid
idea makes a hit with me. But even if I did marry, I don't know what a
man would say, these times, about my bringing some one else into his
house. Men is funny."
"Annie--Annie!" exclaimed Mary Warren once more. "Don't--oh, don't!
I'd die before I'd go into your own real home! Of course, I'll not be a
burden on you. I'm too proud for that, I hope."
"Well, dope it out your own way, Sis," said her room-mate, sighing. "It
ain't true that I want to shake you. I don't. But I'm not talking about
Mary Warren when she had money her aunt left her--before she lost it
in Oil. I'm not talking about Mary Warren when she was eighteen, and
pretty as a picture. I ain't even talking about Mary a year ago, wearing
dark glasses, but still having a good chanct in the store. What I'm
talking about now is Mary Warren down and out, with not even eyes to
see with, and no money back of her, and no