“That fell out of your pocket,” said Uncle Eb. “What is it?” Johnny backed away, shaking his head.
He wouldn’t tell what it was. He’d never tell. No matter what Uncle Eb might do to him, he’d never tell. Not even if he killed him.
Uncle Eli stalked the jewel, bent swiftly and picked it up. He carried it back to the table and dropped it there and bent over, looking at it as it sparkled in the light.
Aunt Em leaned forward in her chair to look at it. “What in the world!” she said.
They bent there for a moment, staring at the jewel, their eyes bright and shining, their bodies tense, their breath rasping in the silence. The world could have come to an end right then and there and they’d never have noticed.
Then they straightened up and turned to look at Johnny, turning away from the jewel as if it didn’t interest them any longer, as if it had had a job to do and had done that job and no longer was important. There was something wrong with them-no, not wrong, but different.
“You must be starved,” Aunt Em said to Johnny. “I’ll warm you up some supper. Would you like some eggs?”
Johnny gulped and nodded.
Uncle Eb sat down, not paying any attention to the jewel at all. “You know,” he said, “I saw a jackknife uptown the other day. Just the kind you want…”
Johnny scarcely heard him. He just stood there, listening to the friendliness and love that hummed through all the house.
