"That's the shortest--the other is longer," explained Susan, still the
extraordinary, palpitating Susan, with the shining, pleading eyes.

"Yes, go on." Daniel Burton had to clear his throat before he could
say even those two short words.

"I called this 'Them Things That Plague,'" said Susan. "An' it's
really true, too. Don't you know? Things DO plague worse nights, when
you can't sleep. An' you get to thinkin' an' thinkin'. Well, that's
what made me write this." And she began to read:

THEM THINGS THAT PLAGUE

They come at night, them things that plague,
An' gather round my bed.
They cluster thick about the foot,
An' lean on top the head.

They like the dark, them things that plague,
For then they can be great,
They loom like doom from out the gloom,
An' shriek: "I am your Fate!"

But, after all, them things that plague
Are cowards--Say not you?--
To strike a man when he is down,
An' in the darkness, too.

For if you'll watch them things that plague,