“Don't talk to ME,” she said. “If them pictures ain't the most wonderful things that ever was, then I don't know. I never expected to see such sights—soldiers paradin', and cowboys a-ridin', and houses a-burnin', and Indians scalpin' 'em! I was so worked up I hollered right out.”
“I should think you would. An Indian scalpin' a house is enough to make anybody holler.”
“They didn't scalp the house; what sort of foolishness would that be—the idea! They scalped the folks IN the house. That is, they would have scalped 'em, only along come the cowboys wavin' pistols and hurrahin'—”
“Could you hear 'em hurrah?”
“No, but I could see 'em. And the way they went for them Indians was a caution. And—Oh, say, Captain Dott, there was one set of pictures there made me think of you. 'Twas all about some people that wanted to go into society. She had a paralyzed father and they had a child, a real pretty girl, and, would you believe it, they commenced to neglect their child and go off playin' cards and dancin' and carousin' around, and the child was took down sick and the poor paralyzed grandfather—”
“Grandfather? Thought you said it was a father.”
“'Twas the WOMAN'S father—the child's grandfather. Well, anyhow, the poor thing had to take care of it, and the nurse went to sleep and the father come home and found her dyin'—”
“Who, the nurse?”
“No, no, the child. The nurse wa'n't sick; but the child was terrible sick.”
“What was the matter with the child; paralysis, too?”