Ten Days in a Mad-House and Other Stories
sitting-room for the nurses, and opposite it was a room where
    dinner was dished out. A nurse in a black dress, white cap and apron
    and armed with a bunch of keys had charge of the hall. I soon
    learned her name, Miss Ball.

31
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    An old Irishwoman was maid-of-all-work. I heard her called Mary,
    and I am glad to know that there is such a good-hearted woman in
    that place. I experienced only kindness and the utmost consideration
    from her. There were only three patients, as they are called. I made
    the fourth. I thought I might as well begin work at once, for I still
    expected that the very first doctor might declare me sane and send
    me out again into the wide, wide world. So I went down to the rear
    of the room and introduced myself to one of the women, and asked
    her all about herself. Her name, she said, was Miss Anne Neville,
    and she had been sick from overwork. She had been working as a
    chambermaid, and when her health gave way she was sent to some
    Sisters’ Home to be treated. Her nephew, who was a waiter, was out
    of work, and, being unable to pay her expenses at the Home, had
    had her transferred to Bellevue.
    “Is there anything wrong with you mentally as well?” I asked her.
    “No,” she said. “The doctors have been asking me many curious
    questions and confusing me as much as possible, but I have nothing
    wrong with my brain.”
    “Do you know that only insane people are sent to this pavilion?” I
    asked.
    “Yes, I know; but I am unable to do anything. The doctors refuse to
    listen to me, and it is useless to say anything to the nurses.”
    Satisfied from various reasons that Miss Neville was as sane as I was
    myself, I transferred my attentions to one of the other patients. I
    found her in need of medical aid and quite silly mentally, although I
    have seen many women in the lower walks of life, whose sanity was
    never questioned, who were not any brighter.
    The third patient, Mrs. Fox, would not say much. She was very quiet,
    and after telling me that her case was hopeless refused to talk. I
    began now to feel surer of my position, and I determined that no
    doctor should convince me that I was sane so long as I had the hope
    of accomplishing my mission. A small, fair-complexioned nurse

32
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    arrived, and, after putting on her cap, told Miss Ball to go to dinner.
    The new nurse, Miss Scott by name, came to me and said, rudely:
    “Take off your hat.”
    “I shall not take off my hat,” I answered. “I am waiting for the boat,
    and I shall not remove it.”
    “Well, you are not going on any boat. You might as well know it
    now as later. You are in an asylum for the insane.”
    Although fully aware of that fact, her unvarnished words gave me a
    shock. “I did not want to come here; I am not sick or insane, and I
    will not stay,” I said.
    “It will be a long time before you get out if you don’t do as you are
    told,” answered Miss Scott. “You might as well take off your hat, or I
    shall use force, and if I am not able to do it, I have but to touch a bell
    and I shall get assistance. Will you take it off?”
    “No, I will not. I am cold, and I want my hat on, and you can’t make
    me take it off.”
    “I shall give you a few more minutes, and if you don’t take it off then
    I shall use force, and I warn you it will not be very gentle.”
    “If you take my hat off I shall take your cap off; so now.”
    Miss Scott was called to the door then, and as I feared that an
    exhibition of temper might show too much sanity I took off my hat
    and gloves and was sitting quietly looking into space when she
    returned. I was hungry, and was quite pleased to see Mary make
    preparations for dinner. The preparations were simple. She merely
    pulled a straight bench up along the side of a bare table and ordered
    the patients to gather ‘round the feast; then she brought out a small
    tin plate on which was a piece of boiled meat and a potato. It could
    not have been

Similar Books

Seven Sexy Sins

Serenity Woods

On the Slow Train

Michael Williams

Trophy Hunt

C. J. Box

Deadly Diplomacy

Jean Harrod