"So do we all," interrupted Mary, and Sal continued. "On that point
you are slightly mistaken, my dear. I don't have to. I didn't come
here to work. They tried it once."

Here pushing her tangled hair back from her brow, she pointed to a
long scar, saying, "Do you see that?" Mary nodded, and Sal continued:
"When I first came here, the overseer was a bad man, not at all like
Mr. Parker. One day he told me to wash the dinner dishes, and to use
more than a pint of water, too, so I gathered them up and threw them
into the well; but this method of washing did not suit the overseer's
ideas of housekeeping, so he took a raw hide, and said he would either
'break my will,' or 'break my neck,' and because he could not break my
will, and dared not break my neck, he contented himself with breaking
my head. Every blow that he struck me was like melted lead poured
into my brains, which puffed out like sausages, and have never
recovered their wonted dimensions. The town took the matter up, but I
don't remember much about it, for I went to sleep again, and when I
woke the overseer was gone, and Mr. Parker was here in his place. I
was chained like a wild beast under the garret stairs, and Miss
Grundy's broad, stiff back was hung there for a door. Nobody asks me
to work now, but occasionally, just for pastime, I go into Mrs.
Parker's room and read to her, and tell her about my Willie, who went
away."

"How long has Mrs. Parker been sick?" asked Mary.

"I'm no judge of time," answered Sal, "but it seems a great while, for
since her illness Miss Grundy has been at the helm in the kitchen, and
perhaps it is all right that she should be, for somebody must manage,
and, as I had declared I would not work, 'twould hardly have been