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"Where . . . is . . . my . . . baby?" I asked as she started away.

"I told you, she was too small," she said and shut the door behind her as she left, leaving me in pitch darkness.

I tried to fight off the sleep, to keep awake so I could get out of bed and go looking for my baby. I started to sing in hopes that would prevent me from drifting off', but I didn't have the breath to go on very long. My words grew softer and softer until I was only mouthing them and then only singing them in my dreams.

When I awoke again, I knew it was morning because the door of my room was open and I saw the light that came in through one of the windows in the hallway. Charlotte was there, this time carrying a plate of real food: a bowl of hot cereal, a piece of toast and an orange already peeled. She placed it on the side table and lit my kerosene lamp.

"Good morning," she sang. "Emily says you should eat a good breakfast and then get dressed so Luther can take you to the train station. You're going for a ride on a train!"

I started to sit up. I felt so weak and so tired. Sleep lay like a fog around me, making everything look blurry, misty, far away.

"Get dressed?" I asked. Charlotte nodded and then reached down on the floor to pick up the pile of clothes to show me. She put them on the bed.

"My clothes!" They were wrinkled and faded, but seeing them was like seeing an old friend. Even my missing boot, the one I had lost that cold afternoon, was there.

"Thank you, Charlotte," I said, taking the clothing from her. I started to pull off the sack dress. Charlotte helped me and then I put on my own things, relishing the feel of them on my skin. I found my purse at the bottom of everything and looked for my comb, but when I found it, I found it had been melted when Miss Emily had had all my things boiled. The comb's teeth were all stuck together. My hair would have to remain knotted and twisted awhile longer.

Despite my hatred for anything Miss Emily did or gave me, I couldn't help but eat some of the toast and all of the orange. I didn't touch her horrible cereal. Just the thought of it now made my stomach turn. But what I quickly ate gave me some renewed strength and energy and I was able to get to my feet even though I was still very wobbly.

"Where is your horrid sister?" I demanded.

"She's down in the library working, working, working on accounts," she replied. "I've got to go do my needlework because I have something nearly finished for you."

"Where is my baby?" I asked her.

"They took her," she said, shrugging. "Emily said she was too small so they took it."

"Took her? Who took her? Oh God, please tell me," I begged, seizing her at the shoulders. But I could see Charlotte simply didn't know much more.

"I have to go to work so I can finish your present," she said, turning and walking away.

I straightened up and attempted my first steps. I grew dizzy again and had to grab hold of the door jamb and wait until the whirling passed. Desperation gave me needed strength. I had to find out what she had done with my baby. I continued to walk slowly down the corridor, each step hard. It seemed it would take me hours just to reach the stairway.

But when I made the turn toward it, I heard the sound of someone's voice, a familiar voice, a voice that sent chills of hope up my spine and filled me with even more strength and determination. I heard my name being pronounced and then I heard Miss Emily's sharp, cold tones.

"She's gone," I heard her say. "She left early this morning."

I walked faster, pulling myself along the wail until I reached the top of the stairway and looked down just as Jimmy closed the big front door behind him on the way out.

"Jimmy!" I screamed with all my strength. "Jimmy!" The effort drained me. I felt my legs soften, and I crumbled to the floor, my face against the railing. I began to sob, even my crying a great effort, the sobs softer, harder to make.

Miss Emily turned to look up at me, a wry, evil smile on that pallid face.

"Jimmy," I said softly. Was it a dream? Did I really hear and see him?

I didn't have to wait for the answer, for the front door rattled open again and Jimmy came rushing back through it. He stopped in the entryway. It was him, handsome and tall in his army uniform, some colorful ribbons on his chest. I mustered all the strength I had and called to him.

"Jimmy!"

He looked up and saw me. Then he rushed past Miss Emily, nearly knocking her aside, and lunged up the stairway, two steps at a time, until he was at my side, embracing me, holding me against his chest and covering my forehead with kisses.

"Oh Dawn, Dawn, what's happened to you? What have they done to you?" he asked, holding me out and gazing down into my face. I smiled, my eyelids fluttering as I fought to keep them open.

"Is it really you, Jimmy? Are you really here or am I dreaming?"

"I'm here," he said. "I came as soon as I was able to find you."

"How did you find me? I thought I was lost, buried in this madhouse forever and ever."