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Updated: June 4, 2025
She rested in it, as a power alive to her, protecting her, awake to her well-being. Yet, after that first glance at Tenney, sitting there with head bent over the stick, she had not a moment's belief in her right to go. It was sweet to be commanded, to her own safety, but here before her were the dark necessities she must share. But she did not speak the words aloud.
She ran into the parlor, snatched them out, tied on the black knitted hood and, not unfolding the shawl, wrapped it about her shoulders. The baby was in his cradle, and she gave him one glance. If he waked, he would cry. Let him cry. But she did lock the door behind her, and put the key on the sill, a place Tenney would know.
"But," she said, in evident concern, "I can't do that. You come up here to write your books. Mr. Tenney said so, when he was tellin' me who all the neighbors were. He said you had the shack repaired so's to write your books." Raven smiled. "I'm not writing books now," he said. "I'm just hanging round. I may go over and see your husband, ask him to do some work for me."
Raven, thinking on this afterward, knew he did pray, in what words he never could recall, and that the substance of it was Forgiveness: Forgive our sins. And that when he had finished Tenney completed his faltering close with "For Christ's sake. Amen!" And that because Tenney looked at him for confirmation, he, Raven, repeated it after him, humbly and with sincerity.
When I was at the Home I used to say I'd rather live in an old kitchen if 't was mine, and now I've got the old kitchen I'd exchange back again in a jiffy! Do you s'pose she'd take me!" "Do you mean to " hesitated Mrs. Albright. "Yes, I mean to run away from the old man! I know you're shocked; but you haven't lived with Serono Tenney! He'll freeze me out next winter, sure as fate!
Then he went back to Tenney. "You were right," he said. "She burned it up." Tenney stared at him for what seemed a long time. "Oh," he said, as if it had been Raven who suggested it, "so she burnt it up. Wa'n't there any left not a scrid?" "Yes," said Raven, "there was. What do you want of it?" "Nothin'," said Tenney. "No, I don't want it.
Tenney sat staring at the words, and his mind told him what a fool he was. That meant the encounter at his gate. He had ignored that. He had been deflected from it simply because he had cut his foot and let himself be drawn off the track of plain testimony by his own pain and helplessness. Was Raven in it, too? Was there a shameless assault of all the men about on Tira's honesty?
He got up and took it away from him, and Tenney dumbly suffered it. "We'll go down now and have some breakfast, and Jerry'll do your chores." "I can do my own chores," said Tenney. "I can go into the barn, I guess." By this Raven understood that he did not mean to go into the house. Perhaps he was afraid of it. Men are afraid of houses that have grown sinister because of knowing too much.
Tenney, came in and was introduced in the foreign fashion. His English was fluent and correct. He was a bright, intelligent lad of nineteen years, then about to take his first trial examinations for the Chinese degree of scholarship, which, if attained, would make him eligible for official position. Although a son of the viceroy he will have to rise by his own merit.
And she had to hurry lest she might not see him again. He sat there, his hands clenched between his knees, his head bent. He must not look at her. "Poor chap!" he said finally, his altered thoughts now on Tenney. "He's jealous." She broke into a sob that seemed to rend her and then pulled herself up and sat silent.
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