“Never?”
“Never.”
“Even if it hurts me?”
“Even if it hurts. God is good, He will not let it hurt much.”
“He’s a fair God, ain’t He?” she mused, scanning the evening sky.
‚ÄúYes‚ÅÝ‚ÄîHe‚Äôs fair, He wouldn‚Äôt take advantage of a little girl that did wrong, when she didn‚Äôt know it was wrong.‚Äù
Her face lightened and she held his hands in both hers, and said solemnly as though saying a prayer:
‚ÄúI won‚Äôt lie any more, and I won‚Äôt steal‚ÅÝ‚Äîand‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù she looked at him in startled wistfulness‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe remembered it in after years; but he felt he had preached enough.
‚ÄúAnd now for the seed!‚Äù he interrupted joyously. ‚ÄúAnd then‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Silver Fleece!‚Äù
That night, for the first time, Bles entered Zora‚Äôs home. It was a single low, black room, smoke-shadowed and dirty, with two dingy beds and a gaping fireplace. On one side of the fireplace sat the yellow woman, young, with traces of beauty, holding the white child in her arms; on the other, hugging the blaze, huddled a formless heap, wreathed in coils of tobacco smoke‚ÅÝ‚ÄîElspeth, Zora‚Äôs mother.
Zora said nothing, but glided in and stood in the shadows.
“Good evening,” said Bles cheerily. The woman with the baby alone responded.
‚ÄúI came for the seed you promised us‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe cottonseed.‚Äù