to a stiff, hand-made chair and sat
staring into vacancy. The bend of her back had never been more
pronounced.

"The idee," she muttered, "o' my goin' over my trouble as ef that
amounted to a hill o' beans ur would be a bit o' comfort! My God, ef
some'n' ain't done to relieve Sally I'll go stark crazy, an'--an'--I
could kill 'im in cold blood, freely, so I could. Oh, my pore,
helpless baby! it seems like she never did have any rail friend but me."

She rose and crept to the window, parted the calico curtains, and
peered across the passage at her daughter's door. There was a narrow
pencil of light beneath it. "She's readin' his letters over," said the
old woman, "ur mebby she's prayin'. That's railly what I ort to be
a-doin' instead o' standin' heer tryin' to work out what's impossible
fer any mortal. I reckon ef a body jest would have enough faith--but I
did have faith till--till it quit doin' me a particle o' good. Yes, I
ort to be a-prayin', and I'll do it--funny I never thought o' that
sooner. Ef God fetched a rain, like they claim he did t'other day,
shorely he'll do a little some'n' in a case like this un."

She blew out the tallow-dip and knelt down in the darkness, and
interlaced her bony fingers.

"Lord God Almighty, King of Hosts--my Blessed Redeemer," she began,
"you know how I have suffered an' why I never could put no grave-rock
over my husband's remains; you know how I have writhed an' twisted
under that scourge, but I kin bear that now, an' more an' more of it,
but I jest cayn't have my pore little baby go through the same, an'
wuss. It don't look like it's fair--no way a body kin look at it, for
shorely one affliction of that sort in a family is enough, in all
reason. I stood mine, bein' a ol' woman, but Sally, she'll jest pine
away an' die, fer she had all her heart set on that one man. Oh, God
Almighty, my Redeemer, you that forgive the dyin' thief an' begged fer
help in yore own agony, let this cup pass. Huh! I'd ruther have 'em
stick a speer through my side time an' time agin 'an have it go on with
Sally like it is. You'd better do what I ask, fer it's makin' a
reg'lar devil out o' me. I feel it comin' on, an' I won't be fit fer
no place but hell fire. I jest cayn't see no sense, jestice, nur
reason in my pore little child lyin' in her bed an' twistin' with sech
trouble. You, or some power above or below, tuck Jasper frum me an'
left that yaller-haired sting fer me to brood over