of planks, I directed my airborne caravan up-creek.
Glory and Seth were up at the mine. I set the things down by the house and then, suddenly conscious of weariness, made my way to Thann’s grave. I patted the gravelly soil softly and whispered, “They’ll like it won’t they, Thann? They’re so like children. Now Glory will forget about the mirror. Poor little Outsider!”
Glory and Seth were stupefied when they saw my loot leaning against the corner of the shack. I told them where I’d got the stuff and how I had brought it back.
Seth spat reflectively and looked sideways at Glory. “Who’s nuts now?” he asked.
“Okay, okay,” said Glory. “You go tell that Jick Bennett how this stuff got here. Maybe he’ll believe you.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked. “Did this belong to Mr. Bennett?”
“No, no,” said Glory. “Not to him nor nobody. He’s just a friend of ours. Him and Seth’re always shooting the breeze together. No, it’s just-just-” She gestured hopelessly then turned on Seth. “Well? Get the hammer. You want her to do the hammering too?”
We three labored until the sun was gone and a lopsided moon had pushed itself up over the shoulder of Baldy. The light glittered on the smug wholeness of the two windows of the shack and Glory sighed with tired satisfaction. Balling up the rag she had taken from the other broken window, she got it ready to throw away. “First time my windows’ve been wind-tight since we got here. Come winter that’s nothing to sneeze at!”
“Sneeze at!” Seth shook with silent gargantuan laughter.
“Nothing to sneeze at!”
“Glory!” I cried. “What have you there? Don’t throw it away!”
“What?” Glory retrieved the wad from the woodpile. “It’s only the rags we peeled off’n both of yens before we put you in bed. And another hunk we picked up to beat out the fire. Ripped to tatters. Heavy old canvassy stuff, anyway.”
“Give it to me, Glory,” I said. And took the bundle from her wondering hands. “It’s tekla,” I said. “It’s never useless. Look.” I spread out several of the rags on a flat stone near the creek. In the unreal blend of sunset and moonrise, I smoothed a fingernail along two overlapping edges. They merged perfectly into a complete whole. Quickly I sealed the other rips and snags and, lifting the sheet of tekla shook off the dirt and wrinkles. “See, it’s as good as new. Bring the rest in the house. We can have some decent clothes again.” I smiled at Glory’s pained withdrawal. “After all, Glory, you
must admit this pin isn’t going to hold Child Within much longer!”
Seth lighted the oil lamp above the table and I spread tekla all over it, mending a few rips I’d missed.
“Here’s some more,” said Glory. “I stuck it in that other stovepipe hole. It’s the hunk we used to beat the fire out with. It’s pretty holey.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, pinching out the charred spots.
“What’s left is still good.” And she and Seth hung fascinated around the table, watching me. I couldn’t let myself think of Thann, flushed with excitement, trying to be so casual as he tried on his travel suit to show me, so long-so long ago-so yesterday, really.
“Here’s a little bitty piece you dropped:’ said Seth, retrieving it.
“It’s too little for any good use,” said Glory.
“Oh, no!” I said, a little intoxicated by their wonder and by a sudden upsurge of consciousness that I was able to work so many-to them-miracles. “Nothing’s too small. See. That’s one reason we had it made so thick. To spread it thin when we used it.” I took the tiny swatch of tekla and began to stretch and shape it, smoother and farther. Farther and farther until it flowed over the edges of the table and the worn design on the oilcloth began to be visible through it.
“What color do you like, Glory?” I asked.
“Blue,” breathed Glory, wonderingly. “Blue.”
I stroked blue into the tekla, quickly evened the edges and, lifting the fragile, floating chiffony material, draped it over Glory’s head. For a half moment I saw my own mother looking with shining eyes at me through the lovely melt of color. Then I was hugging Glory and saying, “That’s for the borrow of your jeans and shirt!” And she was fingering unbelievingly the delicate fabric. There, I thought, l even hugged her. It really doesn’t matter to me that she’s just an Outsider.
“Magic!” said Glory. “Don’t touch it!” she cried, as Seth reached a curious hand toward it.
“He can’t hurt it,” I laughed. “It’s strong enough to use for a parachute-or a trampoline!”
“How did you do it?” asked Seth, lifting another small patch of tekla, his lingers tugging at it.
“Well, first you have to-” I groped for an explanation.
“You see, first-Well, then, after that-Oh, I don’t know!” I cried. “I just know you do it.” I took the piece from him and snatched it into scarf length, stroking it red and woolly, and wound it around his neck and bewildered face.
I slept that night in a gown of tekla, but Glory stuck to her high-necked crinkle-crepe gown and Seth scorned nightclothes. But after Glory blew out the light and before she disappeared behind the denim curtain that gave me part of the front room for a bedroom of my own, she leaned over, laughing in the moonlight, to whisper, “He’s got that red thing under his pillow. I seen it sticking out from under!”
Next morning I busied myself with the precious tekla, thinning it, brushing up a soft nap, fashioning the tiny things Child Within would be needing some day. Glory stayed home from the mine and tried to help. After the first gown was finished, I sat looking at it, dreaming child-dreams any mother does with a first gown. I was roused by the sound of a drawer softly closing and saw Glory disappear into the kitchen. I went over and opened the drawer. The awkward little sugar-sack gown was gone. I smiled pityingly. She realized, I said to myself. She realized how inappropriate a gown like that would be for child of The People.
That night Seth dropped the lamp chimney and it smashed to smithereens.
“Well, early to bed,” sighed Glory. “But I did want to get on with this shirt for Seth.” She smoothed the soft,
