The master could only look his astonishment.

"Yes," said Mliss. "If you'd asked me, I'd told you I was off with the
play-actors. Why was I off with the play-actors? Because you wouldn't
tell me you was going away. I knew it. I heard you tell the Doctor so.
I wasn't a goin' to stay here alone with those Morphers. I'd rather die
first."

With a dramatic gesture which was perfectly consistent with her
character, she drew from her bosom a few limp green leaves, and, holding
them out at arm's length, said in her quick vivid way, and in the queer
pronunciation of her old life, which she fell into when unduly excited:

"That's the poison plant you said would kill me. I'll go with the
play-actors, or I'll eat this and die here. I don't care which. I won't
stay here, where they hate and despise me! Neither would you let me, if
you didn't hate and despise me too!"

The passionate little breast heaved, and two big tears peeped over the
edge of Mliss's eyelids, but she whisked them away with the corner of
her apron as if they had been wasps.

"If you lock me up in jail," said Mliss, fiercely, "to keep me from the
play-actors, I'll poison myself. Father killed himself--why shouldn't
I? You said a mouthful of that root would kill me, and I always carry it
here," and she struck her breast with her clenched fist.

The master thought of the vacant plot beside Smith's grave, and of
the passionate little figure before him. Seizing her hands in his and
looking full into her truthful eyes, he said: