Pa said,
“Now what the hell made the preacher do that?”
Ruthie and Winfield crept close and crouched down to hear the talk.
Uncle John scratched the earth deeply with a long rusty nail.
“He knowed about sin.
I ast him about sin, an’ he tol’ me; but I don’ know if he’s right.
He says a fella’s sinned if he thinks he’s sinned.” Uncle John’s eyes were tired and sad. “I been secret all my days,” he said. “I done things I never tol’ about.”
Ma turned from the fire.
“Don’ go tellin’, John,” she said.
“Tell ’em to God.
Don’ go burdenin’ other people with your sins.
That ain’t decent.”
“They’re a-eatin’ on me,” said John.
“Well, don’ tell ’em.
Go down the river an’ stick your head under an’ whisper ’em in the stream.”
Pa nodded his head slowly at Ma’s words.
“She’s right,” he said.
“It gives a fella relief to tell, but it jus’ spreads out his sin.”
Uncle John looked up to the sun-gold mountains, and the mountains were reflected in his eyes.
“I wisht I could run it down,” he said. “But I can’t.
She’s a-bitin’ in my guts.”
Behind him Rose of Sharon moved dizzily out of the tent.
“Where’s Connie?” she asked irritably. “I ain’t seen Connie for a long time.
Where’d he go?”
“I ain’t seen him,” said Ma. “If I see ’im, I’ll tell ’im you want ’im.”
“I ain’t feelin’ good,” said Rose of Sharon. “Connie shouldn’ of left me.”
Ma looked up to the girl’s swollen face.
“You been a-cryin’,” she said.
The tears started freshly in Rose of Sharon’s eyes.
Ma went on firmly,
“You git aholt on yaself.
They’s a lot of us here.
You git aholt on yaself.
Come here now an’ peel some potatoes.
You’re feelin’ sorry for yaself.”
The girl started to go back in the tent.
She tried to avoid Ma’s stern eyes, but they compelled her and she came slowly toward the fire.
“He shouldn’ of went away,” she said, but the tears were gone.
“You got to work,” Ma said. “Set in the tent an’ you’ll get feelin’ sorry about yaself.
I ain’t had time to take you in han’.
I will now.
You take this here knife an’ get to them potatoes.”
The girl knelt down and obeyed.
She said fiercely,
“Wait’ll I see ’im.
I’ll tell ’im.”
Ma smiled slowly.
“He might smack you.
You got it comin’ with whinin’ aroun’ an’ candyin’ yaself.
If he smacks some sense in you I’ll bless ’im.”