Now I know who the devil is.
Git back, Satan,’ I says.
An’, by Chris’, he got back!
Tremblin’ he was, an’ sneaky.
Says,
‘Please!’ Says,
‘Please don’ make the folks unhappy.’
I says,
‘Unhappy?
How ’bout their soul?
How ’bout them dead babies an’ them poor sinners ruint ’count of play-actin’?’
He jes’ looked, an’ he give a sick grin an’ went away.
He knowed when he met a real testifier to the Lord.
I says,
‘I’m a-helpin’ Jesus watch the goin’s-on.
An’ you an’ them other sinners ain’t gittin’ away with it.” She picked up her box of dirty clothes. “You take heed.
I warned you.
You take heed a that pore chile in your belly an’ keep outa sin.” And she strode away titanically, and her eyes shone with virtue.
Rose of Sharon watched her go, and then she put her head down on her hands and whimpered into her palms.
A soft voice sounded beside her.
She looked up, ashamed.
It was the little white-clad manager.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Don’t you worry.”
Her eyes blinded with tears.
“But I done it,” she cried. “I hug-danced.
I didn’ tell her.
I done it in Sallisaw.
Me an’ Connie.”
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“She says I’ll drop the baby.”
“I know she does.
I kind of keep my eye on her.
She’s a good woman, but she makes people unhappy.”
Rose of Sharon sniffled wetly.
“She knowed two girls los’ their baby right in this here camp.”
The manager squatted down in front of her.
“Look!” he said. “Listen to me.
I know them too.
They were too hungry and too tired.
And they worked too hard.
And they rode on a truck over bumps.
They were sick.
It wasn’t their fault.”
“But she said——”
“Don’t worry.
That woman likes to make trouble.”
“But she says you was the devil.”
“I know she does.
That’s because I won’t let her make people miserable.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry.
She doesn’t know.” And he walked quickly away.