But if I'm ever expected to love anything like that, it will be
expecting too much of Mary Cary, mostly Martha, for she isn't an enemy.
She's just a make-believe of something she wasn't born into being and
don't know how to make herself. She don't agree with my nature, and if I
had a parlor she couldn't come into it either. She could not.




IV

THE STEPPED-ON AND THE STEPPERS


I don't believe I ever have written anything about my first years at
this Asylum. I am naturally a wandering person. Well, I was happy. I
know I've said that before, but Miss Katherine says that's one of the
few things you can say often.

I had a kitten, and a chicken which I killed by mistake. I took it to
the pump to wash it, and it lost its breath and died. I still put
flowers on the place where its grave was.

It was my first to die. I have lost many others since: a cat, and a
rabbit, and a rooster called Napoleon because he was so strutty and
domineering to his wives. I didn't put up anything to his grave. I
didn't think the hens would like it. They just despised him.

Then there were the remains of Rebecca Baker. She was of rags, with
button eyes and no teeth, just marks for them; but I loved her very