I can see her now. She was a
real good-lookin' woman, tall and large, with a big, square face
and a high forehead that looked of itself kind of benevolent and
good. She just tended out on Luella as if she had been a baby, and
when her married daughter sent for her she wouldn't stir one inch.
She'd always thought a lot of her daughter, too, but she said
Luella needed her and her married daughter didn't. Her daughter
kept writin' and writin', but it didn't do any good. Finally she
came, and when she saw how bad her mother looked, she broke down
and cried and all but went on her knees to have her come away. She
spoke her mind out to Luella, too. She told her that she'd killed
her husband and everybody that had anythin' to do with her, and
she'd thank her to leave her mother alone. Luella went into
hysterics, and Aunt Abby was so frightened that she called me after
her daughter went. Mrs. Sam Abbot she went away fairly cryin' out
loud in the buggy, the neighbours heard her, and well she might,
for she never saw her mother again alive. I went in that night
when Aunt Abby called for me, standin' in the door with her little
green-checked shawl over her head.
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