watching me, and I made one of those absurd hypotheses to myself that
we all do at times. If any of the family came, I would know that she
had sent for them, and that I was really deranged! It had been a
long day, with a steady summer rain that had not cooled the earth, but
only set it steaming. The air was like hot vapor, and my hair clung
to my moist forehead. At about four o'clock Maggie started chasing
a fly with a folded newspaper. She followed it about the lower floor
from room to room, making little harsh noises in her throat when she
missed it. The sound of the soft thud of the paper on walls and
furniture seemed suddenly more than I could bear.

"For heaven's sake!" I cried. "Stop that noise, Maggie." I felt as
though my eyes were starting from my head.

"It's a fly," she said doggedly, and aimed another blow at it. "If
I don't kill it, we'll have a million. There, it's on the mantel
now. I never--"

I felt that if she raised the paper club once more I should scream.
So I got up quickly and caught her wrist. She was so astonished
that she let the paper drop, and there we stood, staring at each
other. I can still see the way her mouth hung open.

"Don't!" I said. And my voice sounded thick even to my own ears.
"Maggie--I can't stand it!"

"My God, Miss Agnes!"

Her tone brought me up sharply. I released her arm.