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Show Page 163 With a whimper, Twig slumped onto the ground. "I did not try to run away," he said. He leaned his head upon his knees and began to sob. "Why did she have to go and do it?" he wept. "I did not tell. I did not. But she done it anyway." Something told me of whom he spoke. "It is plain Rose beat you," I said apprehensively, "but did she do more? If you tell me, I'll not let her hurt you again." Twig's old-man eyes looked up at me. "Rose made little Sarah die," he said. "And now she's trying to do the same to Francis." My breath went out of me. For a time my thoughts were scattered, then I said. "But I was there, Twig. Rose could not have done anything to Sarah." "I know not how she did it," he said. "But I know she did. Perhaps she poisoned them like she tried to do to Edward." It was all too far-fetched, and if it had not been for the look in Twig's eyes and the sorrow I felt at all that had been happening, I might have laughed. "You make no sense, Twig. I think you best tell me all you know." "Rose hates me because I know something fearful bad about her," he said. "Remember the day Harwood called the church meeting and you found me an' Rose scrappin'?" I nodded. |