r my dear cousin-in-law. When I came to read
_Frankenstein_ I marvelled at the coincidence. Frank continued warm, as
I ascertained by quarter-hourly pokes, but he did not stir. I must be
patient. Precious things were slow of growth.

Full as my mind and heart were of thoughts and hopes too big for
expression, my behavior was so nearly normal that no troublesome
questions were propounded. I had no difficulty in keeping my secret.
Imaginative children have more secrets to guard than adults ever think
of harboring.

I took Frank to bed with me, smuggling him under my pillow, and going to
sleep with my hand on him. He was getting warmer every hour.

At midnight a cry--a series of cries--aroused the slumbering household,
and drew my father and mother to my room. I had been awakened from sleep
too sound for dreams by the bite of sharp teeth upon the thick of my
thumb. Even the certainty that Frank had evolved a mouth, and that it
was in good working order, could not cheat me into forgetfulness of the
terror and pain of that awakening. I jerked my hand from under the
pillow and shook Something off upon the floor. I heard it fall, and I
heard it run. Frankenstein could not have conceived more intense horror
and loathing for his foul, misshapen offspring than overpowered me at
that terrible instant. The light in my father's hand showed blood
streaming from my thumb and dripping upon the coverlet.

"A mouse, or maybe a young rat, has bitten her," my mother pronounced
without hesitation. "And no wonder! See how greasy her hand is! Faugh!
How very careless in Chloe to put the child to bed in such a state! Be
quiet, Molly! This should be a lesson to you not to go to bed again
without washing your hands. You are old enough to think of such things
for yourself. My dear child, can't you stop crying? It is not like you
to make so much noise over a little hurt."

"She is frightened out of her senses," said my father. "And you must
admit that it was rather startling to be aroused by feeling a mouse's
teeth nibbling at her hand."

I clung to his neck, shivering with fright and cold. My sobs were
uncontrollable.

"It wasn't a mo-use!" I got out, presently. "Nor a ra-at, either!"

"Not a mouse or a rat! How do you know? Did you see it?"

"It was _Fra-a-nk_!" I gulped. "Oh! I'm afraid to stay here! He is in
the room somewhere! He will come after me again!"

The scene was ended by my going in my father's arms to my mother's bed
for