Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-09-19
CHAPTER VII.
Polly Speaks.

my past life, which concern the history
of several other persons with whom
have since found myself connected.
This 1 do at the request Of one who has
been so unspeakably kind to me that
his lightest wish must ever regard as
my law. But for him should not have
the power to write at all, much less the
spirit of charity and forgiveness which
I now feel for all who have ever
wronged or ill-treated me.
The first home that remember was
a crazy, trembling tenement house, IN
a foul and dreary court, where the sun
never shone, and where people were
packed like sheep in a pen. The air OF
the place was thick with evil odors, and
still more evil conversation. Every
body there seemed as vicious as they
were wretched. Broils on the stairs,
free fights on the landing, varied occa-
sionally by stabbing ARRAYS, or by
some drunken husband beating his wife
to death, were daily occurrences in
Harmony Alley, the satire OF which
name could only be appreciated by the
dwellers of the place and the police
whose particular terror it was.
Far up under the roof Of the old
house there was a garnet, bitterly cold
in winter, hot as a furnace in summer.
Its only window was skylight. The
plaster was tumbling in gritty frag-
ments from the walls; the door sagged
so on it's rusty hinges that one could
not close it. The furniture consisted
of a rickety table, chair or two,
heap of rags that served for bed, and
a broken stove in which a fire could
scarcely be made to burn, even when
such q luxury was possible. A cup
board in a corner held two or three
cracked dishes, q bottle Of gin and
sometimes a basket Of broken victuals,
the reward of weary tramping from
house to house. And in this room, at
the top of this terrible den, lived with
Nan and Granny Scrag.
l had lived there ever since l could
remember anything. In Harmony AL
ley Nan and were known as the Scrag
brats, and /, because Of my extreme
viciousness, my ability to scratch and
to bite, to fight and to conquer my fell
low gamins, had earned the extra title
of "The Imp" called Nan my sister,
but / had no reason to believe that
she actually sustained that relation to
me. We were professional beggars.
In fair weather and foul we were sent
"a
of charitable people and solicit cold
food at basement doors. Nan was a
year or two my junior, and l myself
could not have been more than six or
seven years old when the curious
things that / am about TO relate hap
pened to me; but cruelty and every
sort of privation had aged me long be-
fore my time.
One day Granny Scrag-so called
from the fact that her anatomy seemed
made up entirely of bones-dispatched
Nan to a groggery at the corner Of
the alley for drink of gin-gin, alas!
was granny's special weakness. Nan,
with the bottle and a piece of money
in her hands, descended to. the alley,
where she straightway encountered an
obstacle in the shape of Pietro, an Ital-
ian boy, belonging to the organ grinder
who occupied an attic near our own
Often had l engaged in warfare With
the small ruffian, and conquered him
too. Perhaps it was the vengeful
memory of this fact which led him now
to assail Nan. At any rate, he dashed
her to the ground, tore the money and
the bottle from her hold and left her
shrieking.
/ heard the noise as l was toiling up
the garret stair with basket of Goals
for granny. Instantly l dropped my
burden, regardless of where it might
strike, and flew down to the scene.
While my foot was on the last stair l
heard a warning voice cry.
Run, Pietro! Here comes the Imp!
She'll maui you-run!"
1t was too late. l dashed through
the small fry and the blear-eyed, un-
kempt women that Mans yells had al
ready brought to the spot, and sprang
like a wildcat at Pietro's brown throat.
He was larger than /, and stronger.
Nevertheless, he quailed in mortal ter
ror before me.
"Oh, Polly, Polly" sobbed Nan, who
saw in me both a deliverer and an
avenger he's smashed the bottle and
stole the money"
Il tore Pietro's hair, choked him.
I banged his comely, dark head against
the wall.
Give up the brass or I'll have your
life!" l Kissed, like the little fiend
which / was. He tried vainly to es-
cape me, while the lookers-on laughed.
Good for the Imp! I'll bet every
time on the Imp" said one voice, and
another added, admiringly: She'll lick
any three kids of her size in the alley!
Mind your eye, Pietro; you've got the
DEVILS own match"
Il lost the brass!" gasped Pietro, as
l was doing my best to brain him
against the wall Let go, POLL
swear by my soul haven't it,"
For once he told the truth. His
booty was gone, gobbled up by some of
the surrounding small fry, and there
fore past recovery. l beat and banged
him till l was tired, then took Mans
hand and went up to the attic. l knew
what awaited us there; Pietro knew
I also. and howled exultantly after me.
Imp Imp! It's your turn now"
81 And so it was. On learning the fate
of her money and gin bottle, Granny
Scrag swooped down on Nan like kite
on the prey. Slap. slap, went her hard
hands on the childs soft, white flesh,
and as | listened a dozen demons en-
tered into me. l rushed betwiXt the
two with such force that Granny
Scrag, who, by reason of much gin and
some natural infirmities, was always
weak on the legs, reeled and went down
into a corner a fiat, helpless heap.
IF" painted. flushed with my recent