two Jersey cows full of the richest cream in Hillsboro, Harpeth Valley,
out in my pasture!

"Dinner, one small lean chop, slice of toast, spinach, green beans and
lettuce salad. No dessert or sweet." The blue-grass in my yard is full
of fat little fryers and I wish I were a sheep if I have to eat lettuce
and spinach for grass. At least I'd have more than one chop inside me
then.

"Supper--slice of toast and an apple." Why the apple? Why supper at all?

Oh, I'm hungry, hungry until I cry in my sleep when I dream about a
muffin! I thought at first that getting out of bed before my eyes are
fairly open and turning myself into a circus actor by doing every kind
of overhand, foot, arm and leg contortion that the mind of cruel man
could invent to torture a human being with, would kill me before I had
been at it a week, but when I read on page sixteen that as soon as all
that horror was over I must jump right into the tub of cold water, I
kicked, metaphorically speaking. And I've been kicking ever since,
literally to keep from freezing.

[Illustration: She shrouds me for the agony]

But as cruel a death as freezing is, it doesn't compare to the tortures
of being melted. Judy administers it to me and her faithful heart is so
wrung with compassion that she perspires almost as much as I do. She
wrings a linen sheet out in a caldron of boiling water and shrouds me
in it for the agony--and then more and more blanket windings envelop me
until I am like the mummy of some Egyptian giantess. I have ice on the
back of my neck and my forehead, and murder for the whole world in my