Page:Weird Tales Volume 6 Number 4 (1925-10).djvu/87

didn't make those cunning little noises like goo-goo. He—he didn't know me. Mamma said he didn't seem to be sick. She couldn't make it out and she got awful worried 'cause, you see, he didn't even know mamma.

We waited another day and watched and then she sent for you.

You remember you examined him and you felt him all over and you kept shaking your head. Then you felt his head all over again and you looked sad and asked if he'd had a fall.

Oh, doctor, I was terribly scared. I was hiding on the stairs and shaking something awful—no, please, doctor, I won't work myself into a fever again. It does me good to tell it—honest it does; if you'll only let me get it all off my mind and please listen. Yes, I'll take it easy.

Let me see, what was I saying? Oh, yes, mamma told you how careful and trustworthy I was and that nothing could happen to baby in my care.

That made me feel worse yet and I started to tell and cried out only it was a funny thing that no sound came from my throat 'cause it felt so tight like I'd swallowed something too big and it stuck there.

Well, I couldn't eat any more and I couldn't play and I couldn't study and felt awful sick and mise'ble. I hardly talked any more. All I could do was just watch Freddy and wait for him to notice things, but his blue eyes were always like—like a candle was blown out behind them.

You was coming all the time and looked awful sad and sorry and shook your head a lot and talked more about Freddy's head and one day you put your hand on my mother's shoulder and said something low about being afraid for baby's mind. You remember how excited mamma got and she looked terrible white and yelled out: "It can't be! I won't believe it! God couldn't let the bright little spirit of this child be killed!"

That's what mamma said. I remember it, you see, 'cause the way she said it made me get cold all over and I shivered 'specially about the killing 'cause—'cause, you see, I k—killed Freddy's b—b—bright little spirit and you know how I lo—loved him.

No, I'm not crying, only it's awful sad for Freddy and p—poor little mamma and me, too. Yes, I'll take the medicine now, doctor . . . Ugh! Now, can I go on? No, it won't hurt me.

What was I saying? Let me think a minute.

Oh, yes, I heard a neighbor say to another lady: "Isn't it awful for that bright child to be an idiot?"

They said he should have been killed outright rather than be an idiot and they said it was God's blessing my mother had me to comfort her.

When I heard that I locked myself into my room and I told God I wasn't a blessing. I was a murderer of a bright little spirit and that He ought to let me die 'cause I was wicked. I got thinking and thinking terrible things until my head ached something awful and I guess I was very weak from not eating and next thing I knew you was saying I had diphtheria.

The worst of it was I couldn't have Freddy with me any more. I couldn't kiss him good night. You wouldn't even let me see him 'cause you said my sickness was very catching and if Freddy got my breath he'd die.

Then I thought maybe now I'd soon be dead, like I told God I ought to be for punishment, and I wanted to help myself die so I didn't take the medicine and didn't mind you and so I got worse—you remember? Well, that's why.

You see, doctor, I thought then mamma'd feel so bad about Freddy when I told her about the fall it was better I should help myself to die, don't you see?