s a dreary hoarseness, demanding liquor. But with an open wound, to
quicken the heart's action might be fatal, and Polly knew well it was no
use pleading. Instead of that she pointed at the nurse, and said, "Send
_that_ away."

I turned upon Nurse Panton who sat forsaken and ostentatious in her
corner. "Go," I said, "and make beef tea."

Sniff.

I took her by the shoulders, and marched her out of the room, while
Polly grinned approval. I came back and asked where she was wounded. She
pointed to the left hip, but I dared not remove any clothing which might
have caught and sealed the flow of blood. A sole diet of alcohol and
months of neglect had made her condition such that I shrank from
touching her.

"So you're Kate," she lay against the bottom log of the wall, head back,
eyes nearly shut, looking along her nose at me, "Carroty Kate."

Her own tawny hair, draggled, and hung in snakes, was streaked with
dirty gray.

"Ye took Jesse," she said in weary scorn, "so I ruined him. Then this
Brooke, he fell in love with yer, so I murdered him. Take everything,
give nothin'; that's you, Carrots, give nothin'. That's you, Carrots,
give nothin' away, not even a drink. And I gave everything.

"So you're good, and I'm bad; you're high-toned society, and I'm a poor
sporting lady. Oh, I saw ye lift yer skirt away when yer passed
me--calling yerself a Christian, when just one word of Christian
kindness would have saved the likes of me.

"Ye needn't look over my head as if I wasn't there. I'm no fairy, I
ain't--no dream. I'm facts, and ye'd better face 'em. 'Sisters of
Sorrow' they calls us, who gave everything, who gave ourselves.

"And you _good_ women pride yerselves in virtue, which ain't been
tempted. Your virtue never been outdoors in the rain, gettin' wet. Your
virtue never been starved and froze, or fooled and betrayed. Your colors
ain't run, 'cause they've never been to the wash. You don't know good
from evil, and you set thar judgin' me.

"Tears running down yer face, eh? You think you struck it rough when
you came up agin me. Poor Carrots playin' Christian martyr. I done you
good if you know'd it. I'm all the schoolin' you got in real life. I
waked ye from dreams to livin'. And you an' me is women, sisters in
pain. I wish'd I'd auburn hair like your'n, Kate, and a baby David to
favor me with hair an' eyes. And if I'd had a home! But I didn't get a
fair show ever, and every time I done good, I got it in the neck.