Kate said angrily, “Don’t stare. It’s arthritis. Oh—so you want to see, do you?” She unwrapped the oily-looking bandage from her right forefinger and stuck the crooked finger under the light. “There—look at it,” she said. “It’s arthritis.” She whined in pain as she tenderly wrapped the bandage loosely. “God, those gloves hurt!” she said. “Sit down.”

Cal crouched on the edge of his chair.

“You’ll probably get it,” Kate said. “My great-aunt had it and my mother was just beginning to get it—” She stopped. The room was very silent.

There was a soft knock on the door. Kate called, “Is that you, Joe? Set the tray down out there. Joe, are you there?”

A mutter came through the door.

Kate said tonelessly, “There’s a litter in the parlor. Clean it up. Anne hasn’t cleaned her room. Give her one more warning. Tell her it’s the last. Eva got smart last night. I’ll take care of her. And, Joe, tell the cook if he serves carrots again this week he can pack up. Hear me?”

The mutter came through the door.

“That’s all,” said Kate. “The dirty pigs!” she muttered. “They’d rot if I didn’t watch them. Go out and bring in the tea tray.”

The bedroom was empty when Cal opened the door. He carried the tray into the lean-to and set it gingerly on the tilted reading table. It was a large silver tray, and on it were a pewter teapot, two paper-thin white teacups, sugar, cream, and an open box of chocolates.

“Pour the tea,” said Kate. “It hurts my hands.” She put a chocolate in her mouth. “I saw you looking at this room,” she went on when she had swallowed her candy. “The light hurts my eyes. I come in here to rest.” She saw Cal’s quick glance at her eyes and said with finality, “The light hurts my eyes.” She said harshly, “What’s the matter? Don’t you want tea?”

“No, ma’am,” said Cal, “I don’t like tea.”

She held the thin cup with her bandaged fingers. “All right. What do you want?”

“Nothing, ma’am.”

“Just wanted to look at me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How do I look?” She smiled crookedly at him and showed her sharp white little teeth.

“All right.”

“I might have known you’d cover up. Where’s your brother?”

“In school, I guess, or home.”

“What’s he like?”

“He looks more like you.”

“Oh, he does? Well, is he like me ?”

“He wants to be a minister,” said Cal.

“I guess that’s the way it should be—looks like me and wants to go into the church. A man can do a lot of damage in the church. When someone comes here, he’s got his guard up. But in church a man’s wide open.”

“He means it,” said Cal.

She leaned toward him, and her face was alive with interest. “Fill my cup. Is your brother dull?”

“He’s nice,” said Cal.

“I asked you if he’s dull.”

“No, ma’am,” said Cal.

She settled back and lifted her cup. “How’s your father?”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Cal said.

“Oh, no! You like him then?”

“I love him,” said Cal.

Kate peered closely at him, and a curious spasm shook her—an aching twist rose in her chest. And then she closed up and her control came back.

“Don’t you want some candy?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

“Why did you shoot my father and run away from us.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. He didn’t tell us.”

She touched one hand with the other and her hands leaped apart as though the contact burned them. She asked, “Does your father ever have any—girls or young women come to your house?”

“No,” said Cal. “Why did you shoot him and go away?”

Her cheeks tightened and her mouth straightened, as though a net of muscles took control. She raised her head, and her eyes were cold and shallow.

“You talk older than your age,” she said. “But you don’t talk old enough. Maybe you’d better run along and play—and wipe your nose.”

“Sometimes I work my brother over,” he said. “I make him squirm, I’ve made him cry. He doesn’t know how I do it. I’m smarter than he is. I don’t want to do it. It makes me sick.”

Kate picked it up as though it were her own conversation. “They thought they were so smart,” she said. “They looked at me and thought they knew about me. And I fooled them. I fooled every one of them. And when they thought they could tell me what to do—oh! that’s when I fooled them best. Charles, I really fooled them then.”

“My name is Caleb,” Cal said. “Caleb got to the Promised Land. That’s what Lee says, and it’s in the Bible.”

“That’s the Chinaman,” Kate said, and she went on eagerly, “Adam thought he had me. When I was hurt, all broken up, he took me in and he waited on me, cooked for me. He tried to tie me down that way. Most people get tied down that way. They’re grateful, they’re in debt, and that’s the worst kind of handcuffs. But nobody can hold me. I waited and waited until I was strong, and then I broke out. Nobody can trap me,” she said. “I knew what he was doing. I waited.”