As Emily folded up her letter-bill she heard the sound of wheels in the yard below. A moment later Elizabeth and Laura Murray were confronted in the kitchen by a tragic-faced little creature, grasping a guttering candle in one hand and a red letter-bill in the other.
“Emily, what is the matter?” cried Aunt Laura.
“I’m dying,” said Emily solemnly. “I et an apple Lofty John had poisoned for rats. I have only a few minutes to live, Aunt Laura.”
Laura Murray dropped down on the black bench with her hand at her heart. Elizabeth turned as pale as Emily herself.
“Emily, is this some playacting of yours?” she demanded sternly.
“No,” cried Emily, quite indignantly. “It’s the truth. Do you suppose a dying person would be playacting? And oh, Aunt Elizabeth, please will you give this letter to Ilse—and please forgive me for being naughty—though I wasn’t always naughty when you thought I was—and don’t let anyone see me after I’m dead if I turn black—especially Rhoda Stuart.”
By this time Aunt Elizabeth was herself again.
“How long ago is it since you ate that apple, Emily?”
“About an hour.”
“If you’d eaten a poisoned apple an hour ago you’d be dead or sick by now—”
“Oh,” cried Emily transformed in a second. A wild, sweet hope sprang up in her heart—was there a chance for her after all? Then she added despairingly, “But I felt another pain in my stomach just as I came downstairs.”
“Laura,” said Aunt Elizabeth, “take this child out to the cookhouse and give her a good dose of mustard and water at once. It will do no harm and may do some good, if there’s anything in this yarn of hers. I’m going down to the doctor’s—he may be back—but I’ll see Lofty John on the way.”
Aunt Elizabeth went out—and Aunt Elizabeth went out very quickly—if it had been anyone else it might have been said she ran. As for Emily—well, Aunt Laura gave her that emetic in short order and two minutes later Emily had no doubt at all that she was dying then and there—and the sooner the better. When Aunt Elizabeth returned Emily was lying on the sofa in the kitchen, as white as the pillow under her head, and as limp as a faded lily.
“Wasn’t the doctor home?” cried Aunt Laura desperately.
“I don’t know—there’s no need of the doctor. I didn’t think there was from the first. It was just one of Lofty John’s jokes. He thought he’d give Emily a fright—just for fun—his idea of fun. March you off to bed, Miss Emily. You deserve all you’ve got for going over there to Lofty John’s at all and I don’t pity you a particle. I haven’t had such a turn for years.”
“I did have a pain in my stomach,” wailed Emily, in whom fright and mustard-and-water combined had temporarily extinguished all spirit.
“Anyone who eats apples from dawn to dark must expect a few pains in her stomach. You won’t have any more tonight, I reckon—the mustard will remedy that. Take your candle and go.”
“Well,” said Emily, getting unsteadily to her feet, “I hate that dod-gasted Lofty John.”
“Emily!” said both aunts together.
“He deserves it,” said Emily vindictively.
“Oh, Emily—that dreadful word you used!” Aunt Laura seemed curiously upset about something.
“Why, what’s the matter with dod-gasted?” said Emily, quite mystified. “Cousin Jimmy uses it often, when things vex him. He used it today—he said that dod-gasted heifer had broken out of the graveyard pasture again.”
“Emily,” said Aunt Elizabeth, with the air of one impaling herself on the easiest horn of a dilemma, “your Cousin Jimmy is a man—and men sometimes use expressions, in the heat of anger, that are not proper for little girls.”
“But what is the matter with dod-gasted?” persisted Emily. “It isn’t a swear word, is it? And if it isn’t, why can’t I use it?”
“It isn’t a—a ladylike word,” said Aunt Laura.
“Well, then, I won’t use it any more,” said Emily resignedly, “but Lofty John is dod-gasted.”
Aunt Laura laughed so much after Emily had gone upstairs that Aunt Elizabeth told her a woman of her age should have more sense.
“Elizabeth, you know it was funny,” protested Laura.
Emily being safely out of sight, Elizabeth permitted herself a somewhat grim smile.
“I told Lofty John a few plain truths—he’ll not go telling children they’re poisoned again in a hurry. I left him fairly dancing with rage.”
Worn out, Emily fell asleep as soon as she was in bed; but an hour later she awakened. Aunt Elizabeth had not yet come to bed so the blind was still up and Emily saw a dear, friendly star winking down at her. Far away the sea moaned alluringly. Oh, it was nice just to be alone and to be alive. Life tasted good to her again—“tasted like more,” as Cousin Jimmy said. She could have
