“Presents of every form and description poured in upon me; I was wined and dined; poor little simpering fool, I thought it was life. Men insisted on paying my bills; I received money as tokens of kindness.
“So great was the line of my gifts, that on each pay-day I was able to send my mother all my salary. Silk from the skin out, my head adorned with the most exquisite Parisian creations, and some blithering idiot always at my heels. Is it any wonder my head was turned?
“When the Prof. recovered he told me that the apartment in which I had visited him was to be my home; my breath almost failed me, but the arrangements were quickly made, then there was a long series of late dinners in my flat; no home had more luxuries; I received many callers. It was not until this had been going on for three months that I was awakened, then I got a letter from Dollie. She was living in a house in a disreputable part of the city; she told me it was she who had shot the Prof., ‘and if you knew,’ she said, ‘that old Rig. gets from five to fifty dollars from every one he introduces to you, you would make him divide. You need not think he gets all he spends on you from his salary.’
“Of course I did not believe it. She closed by saying that the home I now occupied had once been her own, and of course, I, in time, must give up to some one else, ‘for you will grow tired of being his dog, and you had as well come where I am.’
“I asked Prof. about it all and he persuaded me to believe that she was only indulging in sour grapes. A few days later I managed to win favor in the eyes of the colored girl by giving her a bright red skirt that an admirer from Milwaukee had insisted on buying for me; the next day I clinched the compact by presenting her with a heavy gold chain, which had also been placed at my disposal by some country bumpkin. Then as I handed her a glass of wine, I said, ‘Alice, what was the girl’s name who was here just before I was, I mean the one who shot Prof?’
“‘Oh, honey, doan you know?’
“I have forgotten the last name. Dollie somebody, wasn’t it?’
“‘Yes, honey, dat jes it, Dollie Squires,’ she said as she smacked her wine laden lips. Then she told me the whole story. I heard her through, went to my room, took a key from my dresser drawer and tried it in the front door. That night I gave the Professor the key and told him everything I knew. He grew pale and quivered like an aspen leaf. I would have killed him if I had been armed.
“The season closed; I visited my mother, took her up into the mountains and resolved to tell her all, but while there she improved so rapidly and seemed so happy at my success as a singer, that my heart failed me. I could not take away the little sweetness that remained in her life; it only spurred me on to greater deeds, when day by day I saw her eyes grow brighter, her cheeks take on a healthy glow, her voice become more cheery, I actually could not end it all.