it.”
“So—”
“So after that looks like my spirit just wilted. Me and my children got a ride home with somebody and I tottered around like a drunken woman and put them to bed. They was sweet children and not much trouble, although they was about to go out of their minds with hunger.”
Now a deep sadness crept into her face, which until she reached this point had been still and impassive.
“First one then the other of them took sick and died. Though the old gambler came by the house three or four days later and divided what he had left with us. He had been on his way to gambling it all away. The Lord called him to have pity on us and since he knew us and knew my husband had deserted me he said he were right glad to help out. But it was mighty late in the day when he thought about helping out and the children were far gone. Nothing could save them except the Lord and he seemed to have other things on his mind, like the wedding that spring of the mean little moppet.”
Mrs. Kemhuff now spoke through clenched teeth.
“My spirit never recovered from that insult, just like my heart never recovered from my husband’s desertion, just like my body never recovered from being almost starved to death. I started to wither in that winter and each year found me more hacked and worn down than the year before. Somewhere along them years my pride just up and left altogether and I worked for a time in a whorehouse just to make some money, just like my husband’s woman. Then I took to drinking to forget what I was doing, and soon I just broke down and got old all at once, just like you see me now. And I started about five years ago to going to church. I was converted again, ’cause I felt the first time had done got worn off. But I am not restful. I dream and have nightmares still about the little moppet, and always I feel the moment when my spirit was trampled down within me while they all stood and laughed and she stood there grinning behind her hands.”
“Well,” said Tante Rosie. “There are ways that the spirit can be mended just as there are ways that the spirit can be broken. But one such as I am cannot do both. If I am to take away the burden of shame which is upon you I must in some way inflict it on someone else.”
“I do not care to be cured,” said Mrs. Kemhuff. “It is enough that I have endured my shame all these years and that my children and my husband were taken from me by one who knew nothing about us. I can survive as long as I need with the bitterness that has laid every day in my soul. But I could die easier if I knew something, after all these years, had been done to the little moppet. God cannot be let to make her happy all these years and me miserable. What kind of justice would that be? It would be monstrous!”
“Don’t worry about it, my sister,” said Tante Rosie with gentleness. “By the grace of the Man-God I have use of many powers. Powers given me by the Great One Herself. If you can no longer bear the eyes of the enemy that you see in your dreams the Man-God, who speaks to me from the Great Mother of Us All, will see that those eyes are eaten away. If the hands of your enemy have struck you they can be made useless.” Tante Rosie held up a small piece of what was once lustrous pewter. Now it was pock-marked and blackened and deteriorating.
“Do you see this metal?” she asked.
“Yes, I see it,” said Mrs. Kemhuff with interest. She took it in her hands and rubbed it.
“The part of the moppet you want destroyed will rot away in the same fashion.”
Mrs. Kemhuff relinquished the piece of metal to Tante Rosie.
“You are a true sister,” she said.
“Is it enough?” Tante Rosie asked.
“I would give anything to stop her grinning behind her hands,” said the woman, drawing out a tattered billfold.
“Her hands or the grinning mouth?” asked Tante Rosie.
“The mouth grinned and the hands hid it,” said Mrs. Kemhuff.
“Ten dollars for one area, twenty for two,”
“So—”
“So after that looks like my spirit just wilted. Me and my children got a ride home with somebody and I tottered around like a drunken woman and put them to bed. They was sweet children and not much trouble, although they was about to go out of their minds with hunger.”
Now a deep sadness crept into her face, which until she reached this point had been still and impassive.
“First one then the other of them took sick and died. Though the old gambler came by the house three or four days later and divided what he had left with us. He had been on his way to gambling it all away. The Lord called him to have pity on us and since he knew us and knew my husband had deserted me he said he were right glad to help out. But it was mighty late in the day when he thought about helping out and the children were far gone. Nothing could save them except the Lord and he seemed to have other things on his mind, like the wedding that spring of the mean little moppet.”
Mrs. Kemhuff now spoke through clenched teeth.
“My spirit never recovered from that insult, just like my heart never recovered from my husband’s desertion, just like my body never recovered from being almost starved to death. I started to wither in that winter and each year found me more hacked and worn down than the year before. Somewhere along them years my pride just up and left altogether and I worked for a time in a whorehouse just to make some money, just like my husband’s woman. Then I took to drinking to forget what I was doing, and soon I just broke down and got old all at once, just like you see me now. And I started about five years ago to going to church. I was converted again, ’cause I felt the first time had done got worn off. But I am not restful. I dream and have nightmares still about the little moppet, and always I feel the moment when my spirit was trampled down within me while they all stood and laughed and she stood there grinning behind her hands.”
“Well,” said Tante Rosie. “There are ways that the spirit can be mended just as there are ways that the spirit can be broken. But one such as I am cannot do both. If I am to take away the burden of shame which is upon you I must in some way inflict it on someone else.”
“I do not care to be cured,” said Mrs. Kemhuff. “It is enough that I have endured my shame all these years and that my children and my husband were taken from me by one who knew nothing about us. I can survive as long as I need with the bitterness that has laid every day in my soul. But I could die easier if I knew something, after all these years, had been done to the little moppet. God cannot be let to make her happy all these years and me miserable. What kind of justice would that be? It would be monstrous!”
“Don’t worry about it, my sister,” said Tante Rosie with gentleness. “By the grace of the Man-God I have use of many powers. Powers given me by the Great One Herself. If you can no longer bear the eyes of the enemy that you see in your dreams the Man-God, who speaks to me from the Great Mother of Us All, will see that those eyes are eaten away. If the hands of your enemy have struck you they can be made useless.” Tante Rosie held up a small piece of what was once lustrous pewter. Now it was pock-marked and blackened and deteriorating.
“Do you see this metal?” she asked.
“Yes, I see it,” said Mrs. Kemhuff with interest. She took it in her hands and rubbed it.
“The part of the moppet you want destroyed will rot away in the same fashion.”
Mrs. Kemhuff relinquished the piece of metal to Tante Rosie.
“You are a true sister,” she said.
“Is it enough?” Tante Rosie asked.
“I would give anything to stop her grinning behind her hands,” said the woman, drawing out a tattered billfold.
“Her hands or the grinning mouth?” asked Tante Rosie.
“The mouth grinned and the hands hid it,” said Mrs. Kemhuff.
“Ten dollars for one area, twenty for two,”
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