But, standing in the dusty chicken house, holding the dead bird, not remembering why she needed her tablets -- more and then everything felt not right. Phoebe's heart flopped about under her shirt.
Suddenly the morning blazed so bright -- then went black.
"Swallow, Dear! -- Don't be stubborn now!"
Phoebe spluttered. Missus Appletree forcing her to drink -- the tepid water never stopping. She felt the tablet sticking at the back of her throat like a stone.
"NO! -- NOT RIGHT!"
"SWALLOW, DEAR!"
Drowning, Phoebe tried for air, but gulped and swallowed. Missus Appletree's Niagara shut off.
"That'll do, Dear. That'll do just fine now."
Phoebe felt hard floor under her. She was cold. Wet through. Drowsy -- so drowsy -- she knew this stranger was holding her in her arms, and rocking her, telling her to sleep.
There's a red gingham dress laid out on Phoebe's bed.
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