“It drove Josh nigh crazy.

“One evenin’, after this had gone on a long time, Josh ups an’ says, ‘Ma, Phoebe’s run complete out o’ hand ... she’ll hafta be broke o’ this right now ... when she comes back to-night I’m going to give her the lickin’ of her life.’

“’Josh, you mustn’t whip her.  Let’s both have a long talk with her. (I knowed Josh ’ud hurt her bad if he whipped her.  He has a bad temper when he is het up.) Maybe goin’ down on our knees with her an’ prayin’ might do some good.’”

“‘No, Ma, talkin’ nor prayin’ won’t do no good ... the only thing left’s a good whippin’ to straighten her out.’”

“O Aunt Rachel,” I cried, all my desire of Phoebe breaking but into tenderness.  I looked at the lovely face, crossed with sunlight, full of such quick intelligence, such mischievousness....

You can catch a wild animal in a trap, but to whip it would be sacrilege ... that might do for domesticated animals.

“Josh never laid a hand on her, though, that night ... she never came home ... men are so awful in their pride, Johnnie ... don’t you be like that when you grow to be a man....”

Then Aunt Rachel said no more, as Paul came in at that moment.  Nor did she resume the subject.

* * * * *

Next morning I packed away to visit Uncle Lan.  I might as well go, even if I hated him.  It would be too noticeable, not to go.

He was at the train, waiting for me.  He proffered me his hand.  To my surprise, I took it.  He seized my grip from me, put his other hand affectionately on my shoulder.

“I’ve often wondered whether you’d ever forgive me for the way I beat you....  I’ve learned better since.”

Before I knew it my voice played me the trick of saying yes, I forgave him.

“That’s a good boy!” and Lan gave my hand such a squeeze that it almost made me cry out with the pain of it.

* * * * *

“Lan,” as we walked along, “can you tell me more about Phoebe....  Aunt Rachel told me some, but—­”

“Oh, she ended up by running away with a drummer ... she hadn’t been gone long when her ma got word from her asking her to forgive her ... that she’d run off with a man she loved, and was to be married to him pretty soon....  Phoebe gave no address, but the letter had a Pittsburgh postmark....

“A month ... six months went by.  Then a letter came in a strange hand.  The girl that wrote it said that she was Phoebe’s ‘Roommate.’” Lan paused here, and gave me a significant look, then resumed: 

“Paul went down to bring the body home, and found she’d been buried already.  They were too poor to have it dug up and brought home.”

“It seems that the man that took Phoebe off was nothing but a pimp!”

* * * * *

Suicide:  early one Sunday morning; early, for girls of their profession, the two girls, Phoebe and her roommate were sitting in their bedrooms in kimonos.