I thought about
somebody who was in a dark, solitary prison, and he had one pin that he
used to throw about and lose and then crawl around and find it in the
dark and then lose it again and crawl around again and find it. I had
prowled around enough for the steps; that amusement had lost its
attraction for me. And then the clock struck. I counted eleven, but had I
missed one stroke? Or counted too many? It was not nine when I lighted
that candle. Well, that gave me something to reason about, and something
new to look forward to. How many things could I do in an hour? How many
could I count? How many Bible verses could I repeat? Suppose I began
with A and repeated all I could think of, and then went on to B. 'Ask,
and ye shall receive.' How I did ask God to let me out in some way, to
bring somebody to help me? To _send_ somebody. Would not Captain Rheid
come back again? Would not Morris change his mind and come home to
dinner? or at night? And would Mr. Holmes certainly go to hear that
lecture? Wasn't there anybody to come? I thought about you and how sorry
you would be, and, I must confess it, I did think that I would have
something to write to you and Hollis about. (Please let him see this
letter; I don't want to write all this over again.)
"So I shivered and huddled myself up in a heap and tried to comfort
myself and amuse myself as best I could. I said all the Bible verses
I could think, and then I went back to my apples and brought the basket
with me to the stairs.
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