I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. ‘You are really not helping matters, my friend. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. They were horrible people. No one ate with as much passionate gusto as a teenager could. I've tried the plan, and found it answer. I arranged that he should. So far as regards his attire, Baptist was not seen to advantage.
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