That Printer of Udell's: A Story of the Middle West

A hollow-cheeked wisp of a boy arose from the dark corner where he had been crouching like a frightened animal, and with cautious steps drew near the bed. Timidly he touched the wasted hand that lay upon the dirty coverlid. "What ye want, maw?" The woman hushed her moaning and turned her face, upon which the shadow was already fallen, toward the boy. "I'm er goin'—mighty fast,—Dicky," she said, in a voice that was scarcely audible. "Whar's yer paw?" Bending closer to the face upon the pillow, the lad pointed with trembling finger toward the other end of the cabin and whispered, while his eyes grew big with fear, "Sh—, he's full ergin. Bin down ter th' stillhouse all evenin'—Don't stir him, maw, er we'll git licked some more. Tell me what ye want." But his only answer was that broken prayer as the sufferer turned to the wail again. "O Lord, take ker o'—"