Soon as breakfast's over
we'll pack 'em off to some institution or other, and that'll be the end
of it. What did Flossy say about 'em, when you spoke to her yesterday?"
"I asked her what she wanted done with the young ones, and she said, 'Do
what you like with 'em, drat 'em,--it don't make no odds to me!' and
then she turned over and died. Those was the last words she spoke, dear
soul; but, Lor', she wasn't more'n half sober, and hadn't been for a
week."
"She was sober enough to keep her own counsel, I can tell you that,"
said the gentle Ethel. "I don't believe there's a living soul that knows
where those children came from;--not that anybody cares, now that there
ain't any money in 'em."
"Well, as for that, I only know that when Flossy was seeing better days
and lived in the upper part of the city, she used to have money come
every month for taking care of the boy. Where it come from I don't
know; but I kind of surmise it was a long distance off. Then she took to
drinking, and got lower and lower down until she came here, six months
ago. I don't suppose the boy's folks, or whoever it was sent the money,
knew the way she was living, though they couldn't have cared much, for
they never came to see how things were; and he was in an asylum before
Flossy took him, I found that out; but, anyhow, the money stopped coming
three months ago. Flossy wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were,
but didn't get no answer to her letters; and she told me that she should
turn the boy out in a week or two if some cash didn't turn up in that
time.
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