Little Rebecca Mary lay
too heavy on the minister's wife's heart for mirth.
Aunt Olivia went into Rebecca Mary's room in the middle of the night.
She had been in three times before.
"She looks thinner than she did last time," Aunt Olivia murmured,
distressedly. "Tomorrow night--how long do children live without
eating? It's four meals now--four meals is a great many for a
little thin thing to go without!" Aunt Olivia had been without four
meals too; she would have been able to judge how it felt--if she had
remembered that part. She stood in her scant, long nightgown,
gazing down at the little sleeper. The veil was down and her heart
was in her eyes.
Rebecca Mary threw out her arm and sighed. "It LOOKS good, Thomas
Jefferson," she murmured. "When you're VERY hungry you can eat
things raw." Suddenly the child sat up in bed, wide-eyed and wild.
She did not seem to see Aunt Olivia at all.
"Once I ate a pie!" she cried. "It wasn't a whole one, but I should
eat a whole one now--I think I should eat the PLATE now." She swayed
back and forth weakly, awake and not awake.
"Once I ate a layer-cake. There was jam in it. I wouldn't care if
it was apple jelly in it now--I'd LIKE apple jelly in it now. Once
I ate a pudding and a doughnut a-n-d--a--a--I think it was a horse.
I'd eat a horse now.
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