the edge of the platform and untied it. The
unpleasantness wafted heavily. There was sausage and dark gray bread and
cheese. It was the cheese that was unpleasant.
Miss Lizzie's nose, which bent slightly toward her cheek, had a way of
dilating. It dilated now.
"Go open the stove door," said Miss Lizzie.
Lisa went and opened the stove door.
"Now, take it and put it in," said Miss Lizzie.
Lisa took her lunch and put it in. Her round, soap-scoured little cheeks
had turned a mottled red. When she got back to her seat, Lisa's head
went down on her arm on the desk, and presently even her yellow plaits
shook with the convulsiveness of her sobs.
It wasn't the loss of the sausage or the bread or the cheese. Emmy Lou
was a big girl now, and she knew.
Emmy Lou went home. It was at the dinner table.
"I don't like Miss Lizzie," said she.
Aunt Cordelia was incredulous, scandalised. "You mustn't talk so."
"Little girls must not know what they like," said Aunt Louise. Aunt
Louise was apt to be sententious. She was young.
"Except in puddings," said Uncle Charlie, passing Emmy Lou's saucer.
There was pudding for dinner.
But wrong or not, Emmy Lou knew that it was so, she knew she did not
like Miss Lizzie.
One morning Miss Lizzie forgot the package of trial-paper. The supply
was out.
She called Rosalie. Then she called Emmy Lou. She told them where her
house was, then told them to go there, ring the bell, ask for the paper,
and return.
It seemed strange and unreal to be walking the streets in school-time.
Rosalie skipped. So Emmy Lou skipped, too. Miss Lizzie lived seven
squares away. It was a cottage--a little cottage. On one side its high
board fence ran along an alley, but on the other side was a big yard
with trees and bushes. The cottage was almost hidden, and it seemed
strange and far off.
Rosalie rang the bell. Then Emmy Lou rang the bell.
Nobody came.
They kept on ringing the bell. They did not know what to do. They were
afraid to go back and tell Miss Lizzie, so they went around the side. It
was a narrow, paved court between the house and the high board fence. It
was dark. They held each other's hands.
There was a window. Someone tapped. It was a lady--a pretty lady. There
was a flower in her hair--an artificial flower. She nodded to them. She
smiled. She laughed. Then she put her finger on her lips. Emmy Lou and
Rosalie did not know what to do.
The lady pointed to her throat and th
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