Another silence dedicated to thought.
“Rose?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to be crazy. I’m going to chase him off the farm.”
“Oh, Cassie, you can’t! He’s a great, big, impudent wretch. What folly to talk about chasing him off the farm!”
“It’s our only chance.”
“Don’t count on me. I can’t help you. My teeth are chattering with terror, and my legs are doubling up under me this very minute. I couldn’t help chase a fly.”
“You can scream, I s’pose?”
“Oh, yes, I can do that.”
“Well, you do the screaming and I’ll do the chasing. Rush down-stairs and scream and scream, and bang the door to, and just shriek: ‘She’s out—she’s out—she’s coming down stairs!’ And you’ll see what a perfectly beautiful lunatic I will be. It’s a good thing I have this old dress on, and only one shoe. Now make a rush, and scream.”