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Letters from a Cat
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Helen Hunt Jackson
9
"Where
did
he
drown
her?"
I
asked.
"Down
by
the
mill,
in
Mill
Valley,
where
the
water
is
very
deep,"
answered
my
mother;
"we
told
him
to
take
her
there."
At
these
words
I
cried
bitterly.
"That's
the
very
place
I
used
to
go
with
her
to
play,"
I
exclaimed.
"I'll
never
go
near
that
bridge
as
long
as
I
live,
and
I'll
never
speak
a
word
to
Cousin
Josiah
either--never!"
My
mother
tried
to
comfort
me,
but
it
was
of
no
use;
my
heart
was
nearly
broken.
When
I
went
to
breakfast,
there
sat
my
cousin
Josiah,
looking
as
unconcerned
as
possible,
reading
a
newspaper.
He
was
a
student
in
the
college,
and
boarded
at
our
house.
At
the
sight
of
him
all
my
indignation
and
grief
broke
forth
afresh.
I
began
to
cry
again;
and
running
up
to
him,
I
doubled
up
my
fist
and
shook
it
in
his
face.
"I
said
I'd
never
speak
to
you
as
long
as
I
lived,"
I
cried;
"but
I
will.
You're
just
a
murderer,
a
real
murderer;
that's
what
you
are!
and
when
you
go
to
be
a
missionary,
I
hope
the
cannibals'll
eat
you!
I
hope
they'll
eat
you
alive
raw,
you
mean
old
murderer!"
"Helen
Maria!"
said
my
father's
voice
behind
me,
sternly.
"Helen
Maria!
leave
the
room
this
moment!"
I
went
away
sullenly,
muttering,
"I
don't
care,
he
is
a
murderer;
and
I
hope
he'll
be
drowned,
if
he
isn't
eaten!
The
Bible
says
the
same
measure
ye
mete
shall
be
meted
to
you
again.
He
ought
to
be
drowned."
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