Lord knows I
considered I earned my wages without skipping around with my legs
crossed like she does, and she has no end of patience too, even if
she won't ever let her take a walk. She's getting as pale as she
is herself. Seems like something should be done.
Respectfully,
L. COOKE.
Three days later Lucinda wrote again:
She does seem to be getting worse and worse. She makes her sleep
on a sofa beside her, and she begins to look dreadfully worn out.
I do believe she'll kill her, before she dies herself. I told her
so to-day, but she only smiled. It's funny, but I like her even if
I am bolted out all the time. I ain't jealous, and I'm glad of the
rest. I should think her throat would split with talking so much,
but she certainly does hear her better than anyone else. I think
something must be done, though. She's getting as crazy as she is
herself. They play cards and call each other "aunty" for two hours
at a stretch some days.
Respectfully,
L. COOKE.
At the end of the week Lucinda wrote again:
I think if you don't come, she will surely die. She is very feeble
herself, but that don't keep her from wearing her to skin and
bone.
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