ing was wrong, had felt it all along, anyhow....

She heard a sort of gasping and gurgling....

She found Phoebe on the floor, two-thirds under the bed. Her eyes were
rolled back to the whites from agony. A creamy froth was on her mouth.
And all her mouth and chin and pretty white neck were burned brown with
the carbolic acid she had drunk.. a whole damn bottle of it.

Jenny dropped on her knees by Phoebe and called out her name--loud....
"Phoebe, why don't you speak to me!" Took her head in her lap and it
only lolled. Then she began screaming, did Jenny, and brought the whole
house up. And the madame had shouted:

"Shut up, you bitch, do you want people to think someone's gettin'
killed? Ain't we in bad enough already?"

"So Phoebe came to a bad end," commented Lan, "as we always thought she
would."

* * * * *

The nearest I came to having my long-cherished revenge on Landon:

Once, in the night, during my week's stay with him, I stepped from bed,
sleep-walking, moving toward the room where he and Aunt Emily lay.
Imagining I held a knife in my left hand (I am left-handed) to stick him
through the heart with.

But I bumped terrifically into a door half ajar, and received such a
crash between the eyes that it not only brought me broad awake, but gave
me a bump as big as a hen's egg, into the bargain.

The dream of my revenge had been so strong in my brain that still I
could feel the butcher-knife in my hand ... and I looked into the empty
palm to verify the sensation, still there, of clasping the handle.

"--that you, Johnnie?" called my uncle.

"Yep!"

"What's the matter? can't you sleep?"

"No!--got up to take a drink of water."

"You'll find a bucketful on the kitchen table, and the dipper floating
in it ... and there's matches on the stand by your bed." A pause. He
continued: "You must of run into something. I heard a bang."

"I did. I bumped my head into the door."

* * * * *

I visited Aunt Millie last.

I found her a giantess of a woman, not fat, but raw-boned and tall. Her
cheeks were still as pitted with hollows, her breath as catarrhal as
ever. But she had become a different woman since she had married.

Her husband was a widower with three children already before he took her
in marriage. He was a railroad engineer who drove a switch engine in the
yards. He was as short as she was tall ... a diminutive man, but virile
... wit