But Jim had not heard her voice.  He was sobbing, gustily.

“I’m t’rough,” he was sobbing, “t’rough!  Oh—­God, fergive—­”

It was then that the door opened.  And Rose-Marie, raising eyes abrim with relief, saw that Ella and Mrs. Volsky and Bennie stood upon the threshold.

“What’s a-matter?” questioned Mrs. Volsky—­her voice sodden with grief.  “What’s been a-happenin’?” But Ella ran across the space between them, and knelt in front of Rose-Marie.

“Give ‘er t’ me!” she breathed fiercely; “she’s my sister.  Give ‘er t’ me!”

Silently Rose-Marie handed over the light little figure.  But as Ella pillowed the dishevelled head upon her shoulder, she spoke directly to Bennie.

“Run to the Settlement House, as fast as ever you can!” she told him.  “And bring Dr. Blanchard back with you.  Hurry, dear—­it may mean Lily’s life!” And Bennie, with his grimy face tear-streaked, was out of the door and clattering down the stairs before she had finished.

Ella, her mouth agonized and drawn, was the first to speak after Bennie left the room.  When she did speak she asked a question.

“Who done this t’ her?” she questioned. “Who done it?”

Rose-Marie hesitated.  She could feel the eyes of Mrs. Volsky, dumb with suffering, upon her—­she could feel Jim’s rat-like gaze fixed, with a certain appeal, on her face.  At last she spoke.

“Jim will tell you!” she said.

If she had expected the man to evade the issue—­if she had expected a downright falsehood from him—­she was surprised.  For Jim’s head came up, suddenly, and his eyes met the burning dark ones of his sister.

“I done it,” he said, simply, and he scrambled up from the floor, as he spoke.  “I kicked her.  She come in when I was tryin’ t’ kiss”—­his finger indicated Rose-Marie, “her.  Lily got in th’ way.  So I kicked out hard—­then—­she,” he gulped back a shudder, “she yelled!”

Ella was suddenly galvanized into action.  She was on her feet, with one lithe, pantherlike movement—­the child held tight in her arms.

“Yer kicked her,” she said softly—­and the gentleness of her voice was ominous.  “Yer kicked her!  An’ she yelled—­” For the first time the full significance of it struck her. “She yelled?” she questioned, whirling to Rose-Marie; “yer don’t mean as she made a sound?”

Rose-Marie nodded dumbly.  It was Jim’s voice that went on with the story.

“She ain’t dead,” he told Ella, piteously.  “She ain’t dead.  An’—­I promise yer true—­I’ll never do such a thing again.  I promise yer true!”

Ella took a step toward him.  Her face was suddenly lined, and old.  “If she dies,” she told him, “if she dies...” she hesitated, and then—­“Much yer promises mean,” she shrilled, “much yer promises—­”

Rose-Marie had been watching Jim’s face.  Almost without meaning to she interrupted Ella’s flow of speech.