Naomi Holland was spent and dying, but her temper was still
a thing to hold in dread, and her sister-in-law did not choose to
rouse it by slapping Christopher. To her and her co-nurse the
spasms of rage, which the sick woman sometimes had, seemed to
partake of the nature of devil possession. The last one, only
three days before, had been provoked by Christopher's complaint
of some real or fancied ill-treatment from his aunt, and the
latter had no mind to bring on another. She went over to the
bed, and straightened the clothes.
"Sarah and I are going out to milk, Naomi, Eunice will stay with
you. She can run for us if you feel another spell coming on."
Naomi Holland looked up at her sister-in-law with something like
malicious enjoyment.
"I ain't going to have any more spells, Car'line Anne. I'm going
to die to-night. But you needn't hurry milking for that, at all.
I'll take my time."
She liked to see the alarm that came over the other woman's face.
It was richly worth while to scare Caroline Holland like that.
"Are you feeling worse, Naomi?" asked the latter shakily. "If
you are I'll send for Charles to go for the doctor."
"No, you won't. What good can the doctor do me? I don't want
either his or Charles' permission to die. You can go and milk at
your ease. I won't die till you're done--I won't deprive you of
the pleasure of seeing me."
Mrs. Holland shut her lips and went out of the room with a
martyr-like expression.
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