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htened　and　her　eyes　grew　dark。
　　‘That　ain’t　no　kind　of　question；’　she　said　mildly。　‘You　don’t　know　no　better　men；　do　you？’
　　‘Looks　to　me　like　he’s　a　mighty　good　man；’　said　Sarah。　‘He　sure　is　praying　all　the　time。’
　　‘You　children　is　young；’　their　mother　said；　ignoring　Sarah　and　sitting　down　again　at　thetable；　‘and　you　don’t　know　how　lucky　you　is　to　have　a　father　what　worries　about　you　and　tries　tosee　to　it　that　you　e　up　right。’
　　‘Yeah；’　said　Roy；　‘we　don’t　know　how　lucky　we　is　to　have　a　father　what　don’t　want　you　togo　to　movies；　and　don’t　want　you　to　play　in　the　streets；　and　don’t　want　you　to　have　no　friends；　and　he　don’t　want　this　and　he　don’t　want　that；　and　he　don’t　want　you　to　do　nothing。　We　so　lucky　tohave　a　father　who　just　wants　us　to　go　to　church　and　read　the　Bible　and　beller　like　a　fool　in　front　ofthe　altar　and　stay　home　all　nice　and　quiet；　like　a　little　mouse。　Boy；　we　sure　is　lucky；　all　right。　Don’tknow　what　I　done　to　be　so　lucky。’
　　She　laughed。　‘You　going　to　find　out　one　day；’　she　said；　‘you　mark　my　words。’
　　‘Yeah；’　said　Roy。
　　‘But　it’ll　be　too　late；　then；’　she　said。　‘It’ll　be　too　late　when　you　e　to　be　…　sorry。’　Hervoice　had　changed。　For　a　moment　her　eyes　met　John’s　eyes；　and　John　was　frightened。。　He　felt　thather　words；　after　the　strange　fashion　God　sometimes　chose　to　speak　to　men；　were　dictated　byHeaven　and　were　meant　for　him。　He　was　fourteen—was　it　too　lat？　And　thus　uneasiness　wasreinforced　by　the　impression；　which　at　that　moment　he　realized　had　been　his　all　along；　that　hismother　was　not　saying　everything　she　meant。　What；　he　wondered；　did　she　say　to　Aunt　Florencewhen　they　talked　together？　Or　to　his　father？　What　were　her　thoughts？　Her　face　would　never　tell。
　　And　yet；　looking　down　at　him　in　a　moment　that　was　like　a　secret；　passing　sign；　her　face　did　tellhim。　Her　thoughts　were　bitter。
　　‘I　don’t　care；’　Roy　said；　rising。　‘When　I　have　children　I　ain’t　going　to　treat　them　like　this。’
　　John　watched　his　mother；　she　watched　Roy。　‘I’m　sure　this　ain’t　no　way　to　be。　Ain’t　got　no　right　tohave　a　houseful　of　children　if　you　don’t　know　how　to　treat　them。’
　　‘You　mighty　grown　up　this　morning；’　his　mother　said。　‘You　be　careful。’
　　‘And　tell　me　something　else；’　Roy　said；　suddenly　leaning　over　his　mother；　‘tell　me　howe　he　don’t　never　let　me　talk　to　him　like　I　talk　to　you？　He’s　my　father；　ain’t　he？　But　he　don’tnever　listen　to　me—no；　I　all　the　time　got　to　listen　to　him。’
　　‘Your　father；’　she　said；　watching　him；　‘knows　best。　You　listen　to　your　father；　I　guaranteeyou　you　won’t　end　up　in　no　jail。’
　　Roy　sucked　his　teeth　in　fury。　‘I　ain’t　looking　to　go　to　no　jail。　You　think　that’s　all　that’s　inthe　world　is　jails　and　churches？　You　ought　to　know　better　than　that；　Ma。’
　　‘I　know；’　she　said；　‘there　ain’t　no　safety　except　you　walk　humble　before　the　Lord。　Yougoing　to　find　it　out；　too；　one　day。　You　go　on；　hardhead。　You　going　to　e　to　grief。’
　　And　suddenly　Rot　grinned。　‘But　you　be　there；　won’t　you；　Ma—when　I’m　in　trouble？’
　　‘You　don’t　know；’　she　said；　trying　not　to　smile；　‘how　long　the　Lord’s　going　to　let　me　staywith　you。’
　　Roy　turned　and　did　a　dance　step。　‘That’s　all　right；’　he　said。　‘I　know　the　Lord　ain’t　as　hardas　Daddy。　Is　he；　boy？’　he　demanded　of　John；　and　struck　him　lightly　on　the　forehead。
　　‘Boy；　let　me　eat　my　breakfast；’　John　muttered—though　his　plate　had　long　been　empty；　andhe　was　pleased　that　Roy　had　turned　to　him。
　　‘That　sure　is　a　crazy　boy；’　ventured　Sarah；　soberly。
　　‘Just　listen；’　cried　Roy；　‘to　the　little　saint1　Daddy　ain’t　never　going　to　have　trouble　with　her—that　one；　she　was　born　holy。　I　bet　the　first　words　she　ever　said　was：　“Thank　you；　Jesus；”　Ain’tthat　so；　Ma？’
　　‘You　stop　this　foolishness；’　she　said；　laughing；　‘and　go　on　about　your　work。　Can’t　nobodyplay　the　fool　with　you　all　morning。’
　　‘Oh；　is　you　got　work　for　me　to　do　this　morning？　Well；　I　declare；’　said　Roy；　‘what　you　gotfor　me　to　do？’
　　‘I　got　the　woodwork　in　the　dining…room　for　you　to　do。　And　you　going　to　do　it；　too；　beforeyou　set　foot　out　of　this　house。’
　　‘Now；　why　you　want　to　talk　like　that；　Ma？　Is　I　said　I　wouldn’t　do　it？　You　know　I’m　a　rightgood　worker　when　I　got　a　mind。　After　I　do　it；　can　I　go？’
　　‘You　go　ahead　and　do　it；　and　we’ll　see。　You　better　do　it　right。’
　　‘I　always　do　it　right；’　said　Roy。　‘You　won’t　know　your　old　woodwork　when　I　get　through。’
　　‘John；’　said　his　mother；　‘you　sweep　the　front　room　for　me　like　a　good　boy；　and　dust　thefurniture。　I’m　going　to　clean　up　in　here。’
　　‘Yes’m；’　he　said；　and　rose。　She　had　forgotten　about　his　birthday。　He　swore　he　would　notmention　it。　He　would　not　think　about　it　any　more。
　　To　sweep　the　front　room　meant；　principally；　to　sweep　the　heavy　red　and　green　and　purpleOriental…style　carpet　that　had　once　been　that　room’s　glory；　but　was　now　so　faded　that　it　was　all　oneswimming　color；　and　so　frayed　in　places　that　it　tangled　with　the　broom。　John　hated　sweeping　thiscarpet；　for　dust　rose；　clogging　his　nose　and　sticking　to　his　sweaty　skin；　and　he　felt　that　should　besweep　it　for　ever；　the　clouds　of　dust　would　not　diminish；　the　rug　would　not　be　clean。　It　became　inhis　imagination　his　impossible；　lifelong　task；　his　hard　trial；　like　that　of　a　man　he　had　read　aboutsomewhere；　whose　curse　it　was　to　push　a　boulder　up　a　steep　hill；　only　to　have　the　giant　whoguarded　the　hill　roll　the　boulder　down　again—and　so　on；　for　ever；　throughout　eternity；　he　was　stillout　there；　that　hapless　man；　somewhere　at　the　other　end　of　the　earth；　pushing　his　boulder　up　thehill。　He　had　John’s　entire　sympathy；　for　the　longest　and　hardest　part　of　his　Saturday　mornings　washis　voyage　with　the　broom　across　this　endless　rug；　and　ing　to　the　French　doors　that　ended　theliving…room　and　stopped　the　rug；　he　felt　like　an　indescribably　weary　traveler　who　sees　his　home　atlast。　Yet　for　each　dustpan　he　so　laboriously　filled　at　the　door…still　demons　added　to　the　rug　twentymore；　he　saw　in　the　expanse　behind　him　the　dust　that　he　had　raised　settling　again　into　the　carpet；and　he　gritted　his　teeth；　already　on　edge　because　of　the　dust　that　filled　his　mouth；　and　nearly　weptto　thinl　that　so　much　labor　brought　so　little　reward。
　　Nor　was　this　the　end　of　John’s　Labor；　for；　having　put　away　the　broom　and　the　dustpan；　hetook　from　the　small　bucket　under　the　sink　the　dust　rag　and　the　furniture　oil　and　a　damp　cloth；　andreturned　to　the　living…room　to　excavate；　as　it　were；　from　the　dust　that　threatened　to　bury　them；　hisfamily’s　goods　and　gear。　Thinking　bitterly　of　his　birthday；　he　attacked　the　mirror　with　the　cloth；watching　his　face　appear　as　out　of　a　cloud。　With　a　shock　he　saw　that　his　face　had　not　changed；　thatthe　hand　of　Satan　was　as　yet　invisible。　His　father　had　always　said　that　his　face　was　the　face　ofSatan—and　was　there　not　something—in　the　lift　of　the　eyebrow；　in　the　way　his　rough　hair　formed　a　V　on　his　brow—that　bore　witness　to　his　father’s　words？　In　the　eye　there　was　a　light　that　was　notthe　light　of　Heaven；　and　the　mouth　trembled；　lustful　and　lewd；　to　drink　deep　of　the　wines　of　Hell。
　　He　stared　at　his　face　as　though　it　were；　as　indeed　it　soon　appeared　to　be；　the　face　of　a　stranger；　astranger　who　held　secrets　that　John　could　never　know。　And；　having　thought　of　it　as　the　face　of　astranger；　he　tried　to　look　at　it　as　a　stranger　might；　and　tried　to　discover　what　other　people　saw。　Buthe　saw　only　details：　two　great　eyes；　and　a　broad；　low　forehead；　and　the　triangle　of　his　nose；　and　hisenormous　mouth；　and　the　barely　perceptible　cleft　in　his　chin；　which　was；　his　father　said；　the　markof　the　devil’s　little　finger。　These　details　did　not　help　him；　for　the　principle　of　their　unity　wasundiscoverable；　and　he　could　not　tell　what　he　most　passionately　desired　to　know：　whether　his　facewas　ugly　or　not。
　　And　he　dropped　his　eyes　to　the　mantelpiece；　lifting　one　by　one　the　objects　that　adorned　it。
　　The　mantelpiece　held；　in　brave　confusion；　photographs；　greeting　cards；　flowered　mottoes；　twosilver　candlesticks　that　held　no　candles；　and　a　green　metal　serpent；　poised　to　strike。　To…day　in　hisapathy　John　stared　at　them；　not　seeing；　he　began　to　dust　them　with　exaggerated　care　of　theprofoundly　preoccupied。　One　of　the　mottoes　was　pink　and　blue；　and　proclaimed　in　raised　letters；which　made　the　work　of　dusting　harder：
　　e　in　the　evening；　or　e　in　the　morning；e　when　you’re　looked　for；　or　e　without　warning；A　thousand　weles　you’ll　find　here　before　youAnd　the　oftener　you　e　here；　the　more　we’ll　adore　you。
　　And　the　other；　in　letters　of　fire　against　a　background　of　gold；　stated：
　　For　God　so　loved　the　world；　that　He　gave　His　only　begotten　Son；　that　whosoevershould　believe　in　Him　should　not　perish；　but　have　everlasting　life。
　　John　iii；　16These　somewhat　unrelated　sentiments　decorated　either　side　of　the　mantelpiece；　obscured　alittle　by　the　silver　candlesticks。　Between　these　two　extremes；　the　greeting　cards；　received　year　afteryear；　on　Christmas；　or　Easter；　or　birthdays；　trumpeted　their　glad　tidings；　while　the　green　metalserpent；　perpetually　malevolent；　raised　its　head　proudly　in　the　midst　of　these　trophies；　biding　thetime　to　strike。　Against　the　mirror；　like　a　procession；　the　photographs　were　arranged。
　　These　photographs　ily；　which　seemed　to　feel　that　aphotograph　should　memorate　only　the　most　distant　past。　The　photographs　of　John　and　Roy；and　of　the　two　girls；　which　seemed　to　violate　this　unspoken　law；　served　only　in　fact　to　prove　itmost　iron…hard：　they　had　all　been　taken　in　infancy；　a　time　and　a　condition　that　the　children　couldnot　remember。　John　in　this　photograph　lat　naked　on　a　white　counterpane；　and　people　laughed　andsaid　that　it　was　cunning。　But　John　could　never　look　at　it　without　feeling　shame　and　anger　that　hisnakedness　should　be　here　so　unkindly　revealed。　None　of　the　other　children　was　naked；　no；　Roy　lay　in　the　crib　in　a　white　gown　and　grinned　toothlessly　into　the　camera；　and　Sarah；　somber　at　the　ageof　six　months；　wore　a　white　bon；　and　Ruth　was　held　in　her　mother’s　arms。　When　people　lookedat　these　photograph　and　laughed；　their　laughter　differ　from　the　laughter　with　which　they　greetedthe　naked　John。　For　this　reason；　when　visitors　tried　to　make　advances　to　John　he　was　sullen；　andthey；　feeling　that　for　some　reason　he　disliked　them；　retaliated　by　deciding　that　he　was　a　‘funny’
　　child。
　　Among　the　other　photographs　there　was　one　of　Aunt　Florence；　his　father’s　sister；　in　whichher　hair；　in　the　old…fashioned　way；　was　worn　high　and　tied　with　a　ribbon；　she　had　been　very　youngwhen　his　photograph　was　taken；　and　had　just　e　North。　Sometimes；　when　she　came　to　visit；　shecalled　the　photograph　to　witness　that　she　had　indeed　been　beautiful　in　her　youth。　There　was　aphotograph　of　his　mother；　not　the　John　liked　and　had　only　once；　but　taken　immediatelyafterhermarriage。Andthere（one）　wasaphotographofhisfat（seen）　her；　dressed　in　black；（one）　sittingon　a　country　porch　with　his　hands　folded　heavily　in　his　lap。　The　photograph　had　been　taken　on　asunny　day；　and　the　sunlight　brutally　exaggerated　the　planes　of　his　father’s　face。　He　stared　into　thesun；　head　raised；　unbearable；　and　though　it　had　been　taken　when　he　was　young；　it　was　not　the　faceof　a　young　man；　only　something　archaic　in　the　dress　indicated　that　this　photograph　had　been　takenlong　ago。　At　the　time　this　picture　was　taken；　Aunt　Florence　said；　he　was　already　a　preacher；　andhad　a　wife　who　was　now　in　Heaven。　That　he　had　been　a　preacher　at　that　time　was　not　astonishing；for　it　was　impossible　to　imagine　that　he　had　ever　been　anything　else；　but　that　he　had　had　a　wife　inthe　so　distant　past　who　was　now　dead　filled　John　with　wonder　by　no　means　pleasant。　If　she　hadlived；　John　thought；　then　he　would　never　have　e　North　and　met　his　mother。　And　this　shadowywoman；　dead　so　many　years；　whose　name　he　knew　had　been　Deborah；　held　in　the　fastness　of　hertomb；　it　seemed　to　John；　the　key　to　all　those　mysteries　he　so　longed　to　unlock。　It　was　she　who　hadknown　his　father　in　a　life　where　John　was　not；　and　in　a　country　John　had　never　seen。　When　he　wasnothing；　nowhere；　dust；　cloud；　air；　and　sun；　and　falling　rain；　not　even　thought　of；　said　his　mother；in　Heaven　with　the　angels；　said　his　aunt；　she　had　known　his　father；　and　shared　his　father’s　house。
　　She　had　loved　his