Ten Days in a Mad-House and Other Stories
colder had it been cooked the week before, and it had
    no chance to make acquaintance with salt or pepper. I would not go

33
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    up to the table, so Mary came to where I sat in a corner, and while
    handing out the tin plate, asked:
    “Have ye any pennies about ye, dearie?”
    “What?” I said, in my surprise.
    “Have ye any pennies, dearie, that ye could give me. They’ll take
    them all from ye any way, dearie, so I might as well have them.”
    I understood it fully now, but I had no intention of feeing Mary so
    early in the game, fearing it would have an influence on her
    treatment of me, so I said I had lost my purse, which was quite true.
    But though I did not give Mary any money, she was none the less
    kind to me. When I objected to the tin plate in which she had
    brought my food she fetched a china one for me, and when I found it
    impossible to eat the food she presented she gave me a glass of milk
    and a soda cracker.
    All the windows in the hall were open and the cold air began to tell
    on my Southern blood. It grew so cold indeed as to be almost
    unbearable, and I complained of it to Miss Scott and Miss Ball. But
    they answered curtly that as I was in a charity place I could not
    expect much else. All the other women were suffering from the cold,
    and the nurses themselves had to wear heavy garments to keep
    themselves warm. I asked if I could go to bed. They said “No!” At
    last Miss Scott got an old gray shawl, and shaking some of the moths
    out of it, told me to put it on.
    “It’s rather a bad-looking shawl,” I said.
    “Well, some people would get along better if they were not so
    proud,” said Miss Scott. “People on charity should not expect
    anything and should not complain.”
    So I put the moth-eaten shawl, with all its musty smell, around me,
    and sat down on a wicker chair, wondering what would come next,
    whether I should freeze to death or survive. My nose was very cold,

34

    Ten Days in a Mad-House
    so I covered up my head and was in a half doze, when the shawl was
    suddenly jerked from my face and a strange man and Miss Scott
    stood before me. The man proved to be a doctor, and his first
    greetings were:
    “I’ve seen that face before.”
    “Then you know me?” I asked, with a great show of eagerness that I
    did not feel.
    “I think I do. Where did you come from?”
    “From home.”
    “Where is home?”
    “Don’t you know? Cuba.”

    He then sat down beside me, felt my pulse, and examined my
    tongue, and at last said:

35
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    “Tell Miss Scott all about yourself.”
    “No, I will not. I will not talk with women.”
    “What do you do in New York?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Can you work?”
    “No, senor.”
    “Tell me, are you a woman of the town?”
    “I do not understand you,” I replied, heartily disgusted with him.
    “I mean have you allowed the men to provide for you and keep
    you?”
    I felt like slapping him in the face, but I had to maintain my
    composure, so I simply said:
    “I do not know what you are talking about. I always lived at home.”
    After many more questions, fully as useless and senseless, he left me
    and began to talk with the nurse. “Positively demented,” he said. “I
    consider it a hopeless case. She needs to be put where some one will
    take care of her.”
    And so I passed my second medical expert.
    After this, I began to have a smaller regard for the ability of doctors
    than I ever had before, and a greater one for myself. I felt sure now
    that no doctor could tell whether people were insane or not, so long
    as the case was not violent.
    Later in the afternoon a boy and a woman came. The woman sat
    down on a bench, while the boy went in and talked with Miss Scott.

36
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    In a short time he came out, and, just nodding good-bye to the
    woman, who was his mother, went away. She did not look insane,
    but as she was German I could not learn her story. Her name,
    however, was Mrs. Louise

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