Mary said she hated Cinder. She did not want to forgive her.
“Gawd laid a heavy hand on you, fo-true, gal, but you better be careful. E might knock you harder next time. Gawd is a strange Gawd. You better pray to Him instead o frettin so hard fo July. ’Stead o lookin down, you better look up. Git out and work. Sweat some evy day. It’ll help you to shed a lot o misery.”
Mary asked if she knew what love is.
“Love?” she repeated. “Is I know love? Honey, I knew em fo-true. A ’oman wha live long as me is bound to know em.” She smoked silently, then she added:
“Dey is two diffunt kinds o love, Si May-e. Two; eye-love an’ heart-love. Eye-love is tricky. E will fool you. E done fool plenty o people. Two people’ll meet an’ tink dey have love. It seem so. De ’oman look good to de man; de man look good to de ’oman. Evy time dey meet dey talk pleasant talk. Den dey gone an’ married togedder. But soon, all-two’ll wish to Gawd dey ain’ never see one annudder.
“Heart-love is diffunt. Diffunt from eye-love as day is from night. Sometimes joy walk long wid em, but e go much wid sorrow. Heart-love and sorrow is one mudder’s chillen. When you meets wid heart-love, peace’ll leave you. But heart-love is brave. E kin pure smile in de face o deat’, honey. E pure shames deat’.”
Maum Hannah leaned and mended the fire and mumbled on, but Mary thought about July and heart-love.
“It’s a diffunce between flesh chillen an’ heart chillun too. Plenty o lawful chillen is po pitiful flesh chillen. A heart child is always a blossom. I dunno how-come-so, but it’s so. Unex is a heart child, honey, and dat ought to make you glad, instead o sad.”
Unex, who had become a thin, tall, solemn-faced baby, sat in a box near the fire, listening and sucking at a rind of bacon, watching Maum Hannah and Mary with big, round, unwinking eyes.
“Poor creeter,” Maum Hannah pitied him. “E is hungry as e only can be. Looka how e strives to get a lil meat off dat skin. I declare to Gawd, it pure hurts me to my heart to see how dat child is gone back. E come into de world as fine as anybody. Now look at em; po as a snake; hands no bigger’n a possum paw. I’m gwine to tell you de Gawd’s truth, Si May-e; it might sound hard to say so, but if you let dat child dead, Gawd’ll hold it against you. You nurses you troubles more’n you child. If you’d quit cherishin sorrow so much an’ give all dat time to Unex, you would be better off.”
Maum Hannah grunted and got up, then limped to the door to go, when a sudden thought struck her. “May-e, gal,” she called out, “I know what would help you a lot; you ought to smoke. A pipe is good to help people when dey is worried in dey mind.”
Mary shook her head. She had tried a pipe once or twice in her life and always got sick as a dog. She was not strong enough to stand tobacco smoke.
“But you mustn’ mind gettin a lil sick at de start. You’ll get over it. An’ when you get so you can stand it, you’ll crave to smoke, same as you crave victuals an’ water.” Maum Hannah felt in her apron pocket and took out a small clay pipe, stained brown with use.
“My pipe is broke in good. I’m gwine to leave em here wid you tonight. You try em. It’ll do you all de good. I’d a been in my grave too long if I didn’t smoke. My pipe is one o de best friends I ever had. Dat is de Gawd’s truth. Soon as you learn on my-own, you get you a pipe bowl from Grab-All an’ Budda Ben’ll cut you a nice fig stem. A quarter’s worth o tobacco a week’ll make you a new ’oman. You try em an’ you’ll see.”
Maum Hannah’s heart was set on Mary’s smoking and there was nothing to do but take the pipe and promise to try it.
“How’ll you smoke tonight if I keep you pipe, Auntie?”
“I got another pipe yonder home, honey. It’s a twin to dis one, just as sweet an’ good. I couldn’t live widout em.”
Before first dark fell Budda Ben came in. He was vexed, and he began talking at once. “Looka here, Si May-e, you done fretted long enough. You got to stop or I’m pure done wid you. I come here to tell you how I feel about de way you’s a-actin.”
Budda did not hold back his words in bitter blame of her grief, but, although he had come to scold her, she knew she had no better friend in the world.
“Budda, do light you pipe an’ don’ talk hard at me tonight. Talk some pleasant talk, instead o such stiff words.”
“I come to talk stiff words, gal. You ain’ got a soul but me an’ Ma to tell you to you face what is pleasin to Jedus: de Gawd’s truth. Ma is too good-hearted to hurt you feelins, so I’m gwine to do so.”
“No, Budda, you’s wrong. Auntie has just been here a-hurtin my feelins awful bad.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m gwine to hurt em some more. You may as well set still an’ listen till I get done. Anybody to see you would think you was a diffunt
