I have no doubt but that I could have eaten as much tobacco as Matches
did, and escaped with only a short illness, but the sickly little
mossback didn't have the constitution that we ring-tails have. She was
a poor delicate creature that the least thing affected. I couldn't
help feeling sorry for her, and yet I was so glad to be rid of her
that I capered around for sheer joy. When I realised that never again
would I be kept awake by her snoring, never again would I be disturbed
by her disagreeable ways, and that at last I was even with her for
spilling me out of my berth on the sleeping-car, I swung on my
turning-pole until I was dizzy. No one knew what a jubilee I had all
alone that night in my little room under the eaves.
Little did I dream of the humiliation in store for me. The next day I
found that Matches was to have a funeral after school, and that I--I,
who hated her--was to take the part of chief mourner. The boys took
off my spangled jacket and dressed me up in some clothes that belonged
to Elsie's big Paris doll. They left my own little cap on my head, but
covered it and me all over with a long crape veil that dragged on the
ground behind me and tripped me up in front when I tried to walk. It
was pinned tightly over my face, and I nearly smothered, for it was a
hot September afternoon. I sputtered and gasped under the nasty black
thing until I was almost choked.
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