Frank settled himself, and Mr. Higginbotham waited until he was comfortable to ask, “How old is your son, Mr. Malloy?”
“He’s three. We just… I didn’t realize he was deaf until… just recently.”
Mr. Higginbotham nodded sagely. “His mother didn’t notice anything peculiar?”
“His mother died when he was born.” Another costly admission.
Mr. Higginbotham looked suitably grave. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who cares for the boy, then?”
“My mother.”
“An elderly lady?”
“She’s not so old.”
“And did she not notice anything unusual about the boy?”
“We thought he was feebleminded.” Yet another costly admission. Frank was starting to feel a bit sick to his stomach. “He didn’t understand what you said to him, and he didn’t speak.”
“A common mistake,” Mr. Higginbotham agreed. “I could tell you stories about so many deaf children who were institutionalized as idiots when they were of perfectly normal intelligence. But you, Mr. Malloy, have avoided that fate for your son by recognizing his true condition. May I ask how you came to identify it?”
“A… a friend noticed. She brought it to my attention. I don’t spend much time with the boy because of my work. I’m a detective with the police department.”
Mr. Higginbotham straightened a bit at this, although not enough to give offense. “I see,” was all he said. “And you’ve had him examined by a doctor?”
“Yes. The doctor said he was probably born deaf. There’s nothing to be done for him.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Malloy, much can be done for him. We cannot make him hear in the usual sense, of course, but we can certainly educate him and teach him to communicate with others. We can even teach him a trade.”
Mrs. Brandt had mentioned that, but Frank still found it hard to believe. “But if he can’t hear…”
“May I do a little demonstration, Mr. Malloy?”
Frank nodded.
Mr. Higginbotham rose from his chair and went out of his office. When he returned a moment later, the young man from the front office was with him. “This is Alexander, Mr. Malloy.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Malloy said, wondering what the boy had to do with anything.
“Pleased to meet you,” the boy replied. Malloy noticed that the “please” still sounded like “peas.”
“Ask Alexander a question, Mr. Malloy,” Mr. Higginbotham suggested.
“What kind of question?” Frank asked.
“Any kind,” Alexander said.
“How’s the weather?” Frank tried.
“It looks like rain, doesn’t it?”
Frank noticed the boy’s speech was a bit slurred. He’d never heard anyone speak quite that way before. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” Frank tried.
“Eggs and bacon and bread with jam,” he said with a smile. “I live at home with my mother. She feeds me well.”
Something was wrong with the boy’s voice, but Frank couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “What kind of work do you do here?” he tried.
“I’m Mr. Higginbotham’s clerk.”
The word was so garbled, Frank could only guess that he’d said “Higginbotham.” He had to listen carefully to the boy, but he could understand what he was saying, even if he had to guess at some of the words.
“Why is Mr. Higginbotham making you talk to me?” Frank asked, looking at the gentleman in question.
“Because I’m deaf,” Alexander said rather proudly.
Now Frank knew they were playing a trick on him. “Then how could you understand my questions?” he challenged.
“I read your lips.” The boy grinned proudly.
“Read my what?” Frank was very confused.
“Alexander has been trained in speech reading, Mr. Malloy,” Higginbotham explained. “By watching the way your lips move, he can divine what you are saying. Even though he can’t hear your words, he can understand them.”
“But he can talk, too.” Not perfectly clearly, of course, but well enough to make himself understood. Frank had thought deaf people were also mute.
“Yes, we trained him in speech as well. That is what we do here at the Lexington Avenue School. You may have been to other schools where they use different techniques-”
“No, I haven’t,” Frank said, still looking at the boy as if he were a wonder. Because, of course, he was. A deaf person who could speak and understand, if not exactly hear, words was a wonder of wonders to Frank.
“Well, ahem, we use the oralist methods here,” Higginbotham went on to explain. “We force the students to rely on speech reading and speaking to communicate. Then they are able to make their own way in the world.”
Frank was still looking at the boy. “Are you sure he’s really deaf?”
“Quite sure,” Higginbotham assured him with a smile.
“Oh, yes,” Alexander said, still grinning at Frank’s confusion. “I had scarlet fever when I was five. That made me deaf.”
“So you weren’t born deaf,” Frank said.
“No, but I am deaf now.” He seemed almost proud of the fact.
Frank was still mystified. He looked at Higginbotham. “How can he just look at my lips and know what I’m saying?”
“It takes years of training,” Higginbotham said, “but you are fortunate to live here in the city. Your son is a bit young for our school just yet, but when he’s older, he can come here as a day student, just the way he would attend an ordinary school. The students who live in the country have to board with us, but we feel they do better if they can live at home with their families.”
“And you think you could teach my son to talk and to read people’s lips?”
“We’d have to test him, of course, but assuming he is of normal intelligence, then yes, I think we could.”
8
WHEN SARAH GOT BACK FROM THE GANSEVOORT Market, carrying her bags of produce, the next morning, Mrs. Elsworth was waiting for her. She was pretending to sweep her front stoop, as usual, of course, but she was really just keeping herself outside where she could observe the activity of the street.
“Is the corn in yet?” she asked when Sarah greeted her.
“I saw some, but it didn’t look very good. It’s too early, I’m afraid.”
“I do so enjoy fresh corn,” Mrs. Elsworth said wistfully. “And of course, I always make the corn dollies out of the sheaves.” She donated these dolls to the various orphanages in the city. “The dollies bring good luck if you make them out of the sheaves of the last corn of the harvest, but living in the city, how on earth can you find such a thing? Sometimes I think we’ve become too civilized, Mrs. Brandt.”
Sarah thought of the four dead girls and knew she could have argued the point, but she didn’t. She didn’t have the heart for it at the moment.
“You don’t look quite yourself this morning,” Mrs. Elsworth observed. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
“I’m just tired, I think.”
“You have been out quite a lot lately. It’s not baby business either, is it? Are you helping that nice detective with another case?”
Sarah knew she shouldn’t burden Mrs. Elsworth with such things. “Something like that,” was all she said. She wished her neighbor good morning and went on into her own house. She’d just finished putting her purchases away when someone knocked on her back door. Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Mrs. Elsworth there. She held a plate covered with a napkin.
