Another idea has come to me, and if I could see Miss Katherine I could
tell whether to do it or not. If she don't come soon I will do it,
anyhow. I won't be able to help it.

The girls say if I were a darkey they'd think I was seeking. That's
because some days I'm so unnatural quiet and stay so much by myself. I
do that for safety, fearing otherwise I'd speak.

They don't know what's going on inside of me. If they could see they'd
find nothing but quiverings and questions, and if I don't do anything
really violent it's all I ask.

Every morning and every night my prayers are just this: "O Lord, help
Mary Cary through this day. I'm not asking for to-morrow, it not being
here yet. But _This Day_ help me to hold out." And all day long I'm
saying under my breath:

"Hold on, Mary Cary, hold on, hold on.
There never was a night that didn't have a dawn.
There never was a road that didn't have an end.
Wait awhile, wait awhile, and then the letter send."

I say that so often to myself that I'm afraid somebody will hear me
think it. If that letter isn't sent soon, the answer will be received by
a corpse.

I'm never again going to have a secret. It's worse than a tumor or
dropsy. Mrs. Penick has a tumor. I've never seen the dropsy, but a
secret is more dangerous, for it dries you up. Dropsy has water to it.