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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