When the book was finished and I came to look around to see what had become of the team I had originally started out with—­Aunt Patsy Cooper, Aunt Betsy Hale, and two boys, and Rowena the lightweight heroine—­they were nowhere to be seen; they had disappeared from the story some time or other.  I hunted about and found them—­found them stranded, idle, forgotten, and permanently useless.  It was very awkward.  It was awkward all around, but more particularly in the case of Rowena, because there was a love match on, between her and one of the twins that constituted the freak, and I had worked it up to a blistering heat and thrown in a quite dramatic love quarrel, wherein Rowena scathingly denounced her betrothed for getting drunk, and scoffed at his explanation of how it had happened, and wouldn’t listen to it, and had driven him from her in the usual “forever” way; and now here she sat crying and brokenhearted; for she had found that he had spoken only the truth; that is was not he, but the other of the freak that had drunk the liquor that made him drunk; that her half was a prohibitionist and had never drunk a drop in his life, and altogether tight as a brick three days in the week, was wholly innocent of blame; and indeed, when sober, was constantly doing all he could to reform his brother, the other half, who never got any satisfaction out of drinking, anyway, because liquor never affected him.  Yes, here she was, stranded with that deep injustice of hers torturing her poor torn heart.

I didn’t know what to do with her.  I was as sorry for her as anybody could be, but the campaign was over, the book was finished, she was sidetracked, and there was no possible way of crowding her in, anywhere.  I could not leave her there, of course; it would not do.  After spreading her out so, and making such a to-do over her affairs, it would be absolutely necessary to account to the reader for her.  I thought and thought and studied and studied; but I arrived at nothing.  I finally saw plainly that there was really no way but one—­I must simply give her the grand bounce.  It grieved me to do it, for after associating with her so much I had come to kind of like her after a fashion, notwithstanding she was such an ass and said such stupid, irritating things and was so nauseatingly sentimental.  Still it had to be done.  So at the top of Chapter XVII I put a “Calendar” remark concerning July the Fourth, and began the chapter with this statistic: 

“Rowena went out in the backyard after supper to see the fireworks and fell down the well and got drowned.”

It seemed abrupt, but I thought maybe the reader wouldn’t notice it, because I changed the subject right away to something else.  Anyway it loosened up Rowena from where she was stuck and got her out of the way, and that was the main thing.  It seemed a prompt good way of weeding out people that had got stalled, and a plenty good enough way for those others; so I hunted up the two boys and said, “They went