I'm going to tell you something.—Page 34.
"Don't," laughed Prudy, "I've just brushed my hair."
"Once there was a girl, Prudy, lived in this state; and mother thinks she was just like me. But she wasn't, truly. She was homely; and her hair was black; and her mother was dead. The woman spatted her with a stick where she lived. And she didn't love the baby any at all, 'cause he had nicer things, you know; and I guess white sugar and verserves. So she stuck a spine into him—only think! In his crib! So he never walked ever again! And his father and mother were gone away, and told her to give him baked apples and milk—with bread in!"
"Why, that can't be true, Dotty Parlin!"
"Yes, indeed! Certain true, black and blue. Guess my mother knows!"
"What!" said Prudy, "just for baked apples and milk?"
"Yes. Her name was Harriet."
"What did you say she did it with, Dotty?"
"Mamma said a spine. They took her to the court-house; but they didn't hang her, 'cause she—I've forgot what—but they didn't. They made her marry a black man—that's all I know!"