And one day, when Leslie was fourteen years of age, he hanged himself--and in the parlor, too, mind you, Anne, right in the middle of the parlor from the lamp hook in the ceiling.

Wasn't that like a man?
It was the anniversary of his wedding day, too.

Nice, tasty time to pick for it, wasn't it?
And, of course, that poor Leslie had to be the one to find him.

She went into the parlor that morning, singing, with some fresh flowers for the vases, and there she saw her father hanging from the ceiling, his face as black as a coal.

It was something awful, believe ME!" "Oh, how horrible!" said Anne, shuddering.