That afternoon, while I was asleep, Antonia took grandmother with her, and
went over to the Cutters' to pack her trunk. They found the place locked
up, and they had to break the window to get into Antonia's bedroom. There
everything was in shocking disorder. Her clothes had been taken out of her
closet, thrown into the middle of the room, and trampled and torn. My own
garments had been treated so badly that I never saw them again;
grandmother burned them in the Cutters' kitchen range.
While Antonia was packing her trunk and putting her room in order, to
leave it, the front-door bell rang violently. There stood Mrs.
Cutter,--locked out, for she had no key to the new lock--her head trembling
with rage. "I advised her to control herself, or she would have a stroke,"
grandmother said afterwards.
Grandmother would not let her see Antonia at all, but made her sit down in
the parlor while she related to her just what had occurred the night
before. Antonia was frightened, and was going home to stay for a while,
she told Mrs. Cutter; it would be useless to interrogate the girl, for she
knew nothing of what had happened.
Then Mrs. Cutter told her story. She and her husband had started home from
Omaha together the morning before. They had to stop over several hours at
Waymore Junction to catch the Black Hawk train. During the wait, Cutter
left her at the depot and went to the Waymore bank to attend to some
business.
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