The front pattern does move, and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it. Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern — it strangles so. I think that is why it has so many heads. I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creeping as fast as a cloud shadow in a wind. If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I mean to try it, little by little. This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in town over night, and I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path. I have peeled off yards of that paper. I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I cannot do it at night, for I know John would suspect something at once. I don't like to look out of the windows even, for there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. As long as I am here, no person shall touch this paper but me — not alive! I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. 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 is John at the door! It is no use, young man, you can't open it! How he does call and pound! Now he cries for an axe. I had to creep over him every time! "I have got out at last," said I, "in spite of you and Jane. And I have pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back!"