oo much
temper and too much indolence rule here. I go in sometimes and coax her
to stop talking and lie down. I cover her up to keep her warm; she is
blue with the cold. If I could keep her in a nice warm room, with kind
treatment and nourishing food! She could not eat that horrible, sour
bakers' bread with poor butter. Sometimes her food would set in her room
a long time. I guess she only eats when she is so starved she can't help
it. I eat because I am determined to live until I find some one who will
help me out of this castle on the hill, that I may tell the
Commissioners all about it. Sometimes I term it a college, in which I am
finishing my education, and I shall graduate some day--when will it be?
My impatient spirit chafes at this long delay. I sit at the grated
window and think, if I were one of those little pigeons on the window
sill I would be happy; content to be anything if only at liberty.

April.--The friends of Miss Short have been here and taken her home, and
word returned that she is better. I am thankful to think she is with her
mother, and I do not see her so improperly treated; it made me feel
wretched to think of her.

Poor Katy Dugan's friends came one day. I watched my chance and told one
of them to let her mother know she was getting worse and was not well
treated. I had many heart-aches for that girl; I scarcely know why. They
must have seen she looked worse; her dress of flannel, trimmed with
satin of the same color, which looked so nice when she came, was filthy
with spots of gruel and milk they had been forcing her to eat. This day,
I remember, was worse than common days of trouble. I had been excited by
seeing one of the most inoffensive inmates pushed and spoken to very
roughly, without having done any wrong. They attempted to comb that
poor girl's hair; she will not submit, begs and cries to go down there.
I go to the bath-room door to beg them to be gentle with her. Mrs. Mills
slammed the door in my face. She is vexed at any expression of sympathy.
Again I hear that pitiful cry, and I go up the hall to see what the
trouble is. They had taken her in a room to hold her on the floor, by
those heavy, strong nurses sitting on her arms and feet, while they
force her to eat. I return, for I can't endure the sight. I met Mrs.
Mills, with a large spoon, going to stuff her as she did me. (I was not
dyspeptic; I had fasted and would have eaten if they had given me milk,
as I requested.) She was