"You are wrong, sister, to starve me," Lisbeth said. "To starve me. I
cannot walk you know. You must not blame me if I change my mind about my
money. It was wrong of you."
Olwen did not answer.
"Dear me," Lisbeth cried, "supposing our father in Heaven knew how you
treat me. Indeed the vestry shall have my bit. I might be a pig in a
pigsty. I'll get the fever. Supposing our father is looking through the
window of Heaven at your cruelty to me."
Olwen muttered the burden of her care: "'The wife would pull through if
she had plenty of attention. How could she with her about? The two of
you killed her. You did. I warned you to give up everything and see to
her. But you neglected her.' That's what Charlie will say. Hoo-hoo.
'It's unheard of for a woman to die before childbirth. Serves you right
if I have an inquest.'..."
"For shame to keep from me now," said Lisbeth in a voice that was higher
than the continued muttering of Olwen. "Have you no regard for the
living? The dead is dead. And you made too much of Jennie. You spoiled
her...."
On a sudden Olwen ceased, and she strode up to the bed and thrust her
scissors into Lisbeth's breast.
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