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"I gives her the bread and she goes up ta yer room and next thing I know, Mr. Tatterton's rushing about, frantic because the food made ya so sick. He come in ta see me 'bout it and I said, yessir, listen to whatever the nurse tells me. Dat was dat. But ya feelin' better now?"

"Yes, Rye. You're sure she put medicine in my food?"

"In de potatoes. She was mixing it up when I comes out of the kitchen. Hope it didn't ruin the taste, I thought, but I was too scared ta say dat ta her. She must be a good nurse; she can scare the sickness right outta ya."

"If she wants . ." I said knowingly. That was no medicine. She was taking revenge on me for insisting on the food, for defying her. My God, I thought, I'm in the hands of a sadistic, vengeful, hateful person. All this pain and embarrassment was her doing? "Or maybe she puts the sickness into you, too," I added, nodding knowingly. Rye understood.

"Miss Annie . ." He turned and looked at the empty doorway to be sure no one was coming. "Maybe ya better already. Maybe it be best ya go on home now."

"What?" I smiled with confusion. "You want me to go home?"

"I better gets back to ma kitchen. Glad ya feelin' better, Miss Annie." He hurried out before I could ask him another question, but there was no doubt in my mind that he knew more, much more, about what was going on at Farthy.

Tony didn't appear until dinner time. I was given the meal I had originally sent back: a breast of boiled chicken, peas and carrots, and bland mashed potatoes. Mrs. Broadfield smiled widely as she brought in the tray and placed it on my chair table. She stood nearby and watched me eat, just to be sure I could take in solid food again, she said.

"Did you put anything in this to help my digestion?" I asked. Her smile evaporated.

"What? Like what?"

"I don't know . . . like what you put in my food when you brought me my dinner the second time last night," I said, my eyes narrowing on her.

"What? Who told you such a thing?" She didn't look angry; she looked amused, as if she were talking to a complete idiot. The tight, cynical smile around her lips infuriated me.

"Rye told me;" I spit back at her. "He came up to see how I was doing and he told me he saw you putting in what you told him was medicine after you took the tray out of the kitchen."

"What a story." She laughed; a thin, chilling laugh. "Why would he make up such a thing? It's ridiculous to suggest it."

"You did it," I said accusingly.

"My dear girl, he's merely trying to cover up his own guilt for what happened to you. The first day we arrived here, I went to see him and specifically told him he must eliminate spicy foods from your diet. You'll remember I told him not to give you heavy sweet things, but he sent up that chocolate cake anyway. He's either stubborn or stupid. I'm sure Mr. Tatterton was quite upset with him and might even have fired him."

&n

bsp; "Fire Rye?" It was my turn to laugh and make her feel ridiculous. "You don't realize how long they've been together. Rye's family here; he'll be here until the day he dies. And as for him feeling guilty, that's even more ridiculous. Rye is a wonderful cook. People don't get sick from the food he makes," I continued, challenging her, my eyes burning through her. She shook her head and looked away. That confirmed my suspicions.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Tatterton was upset with him. Now why don't you finish your food before it gets cold. I'd like it to be warm when it hits your stomach." She spun on her heel and left the room.

Soon after, Tony arrived.

"How are you doing, Annie? I called Mrs. Broadfield twice today and she said you were coming along fine."

"She's been lying to you," I snapped. I was determined this would all come to an end or I would leave immediately.

"What? Lying?"

"I didn't get sick from any spicy food, Tony. The food wasn't overly spiced, it was poisoned!" I declared. He stared at me a moment, his eyes widening.

"Poisoned? Do you realize what you're saying? Maybe you're just--"

"No, Tony, listen. If you really care for me, listen," I said. That got to him. He came closer. "Mrs. Broadfield is a competent nurse, technically competent, but she's not a nice person and she hates wealthy people. She thinks wealthy people, especially young wealthy people, are spoiled rotten and weak. You should see her face when she talks about it--she becomes even uglier, ghastly, hideous, monstrous."

"I had no idea," he said in amazement.

"Yes, and she can't stand being challenged. Why, even if I ask a question about what she's doing, she becomes enraged. When I demanded Rye's tasty food and challenged her command, she made up her mind to teach me a lesson. Rye was just here to apologize, and he told me she had taken his food and put something in it, claiming it was medicine, but I don't get any medicine in my food, Tony. You know that. She brought about this painful and embarrassing scene just to teach me a lesson," I repeated, my rage and fury bright, my face hot with anger.

He nodded. "I see. Well then, I think it's time we terminated her services, don't you?"

"Yes, Tony. I won't stay here another day with that woman."