“The air was swell! It’s comin’ on cool and ’pears like we may get a thunder shower by bed-time.”

Across from Rose Standish’s bed had been rolled that of a tremendously fat woman. Some sort of thyroid insufficiency. The outlines of her obese legs were visible under the sheets. Rose shivered. Nice job bathing a hog like that. She had seen one in the accident room last winter with secondary burns. Fat, layers and layers and layers. Awful to operate upon!

The woman smiled at her and began speaking:

“New?”

“Yes. Miss Standish,” Mrs. Witherspoon supplied.

Rose bowed politely.

The fat woman whispered loudly:

“I seen her, Mrs. With’spoon!”

“Seen who?”

“Seen ... Her...!”