I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off a little piece at one corner—but it hurt my teeth. 

 Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. It sticks horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision! 

 I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try. 

 Besides I wouldn’t do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued. 

 I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. 

 I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did? 

 But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—you don’t get me out in the road there! 

 I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard! 

 It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please! 

 I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to. 

 For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow. 

 But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way. 

 Why, there’s John at the door! 

 It is no use, young man, you can’t open it! 

 How he does call and pound! 

 Now he’s crying for an axe. 

 It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door! 

 “John dear!” said I in the gentlest voice, “the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf!” 

 Prev. P 16/17 next