bare, white legs from the tombstone and deliberately walked
through the wet, cold grass to the bank of snow. Setting her
teeth, she stepped upon it and stood there.

"What are you doing?" cried Una aghast. "You'll catch your death
of cold, Faith Meredith."

"I'm trying to," answered Faith. "I hope I'll catch a fearful
cold and be AWFUL sick to-morrow. Then I won't be acting a lie.
I'm going to stand here as long as I can bear it."

"But, Faith, you might really die. You might get pneumonia.
Please, Faith don't. Let's go into the house and get SOMETHING
for your feet. Oh, here's Jerry. I'm so thankful. Jerry, MAKE
Faith get off that snow. Look at her feet."

"Holy cats! Faith, what ARE you doing?" demanded Jerry. "Are you
crazy?"

"No. Go away!" snapped Faith.

"Then are you punishing yourself for something? It isn't right,
if you are. You'll be sick."

"I want to be sick. I'm not punishing myself. Go away."

"Where's her shoes and stockings?" asked Jerry of Una.

"She gave them to Lida Marsh."