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She
crept
back
and
fumbled
for
the
matches
,
beside
the
lantern
.
The
shade
screeched
up
.
She
lighted
the
wick
,
watched
it
burn
blue
for
a
moment
and
then
put
up
its
yellow
,
delicately
curved
ring
of
light
.
She
carried
the
lantern
to
the
stove
and
set
it
down
while
she
broke
the
brittle
dry
willowy
twigs
into
the
fire
box
.
In
a
moment
the
fire
was
roaring
up
the
chimney
.
Rose
of
Sharon
rolled
heavily
over
and
sat
up
.
«
I
’
ll
git
right
up
,
"
she
said
.
«
Whyn
’
t
you
lay
a
minute
till
it
warms
?
»
Ma
asked
.
«
No
,
I
’
ll
git
.
»
Ma
filled
the
coffee
pot
from
the
bucket
and
set
it
on
the
stove
,
and
she
put
on
the
frying
pan
,
deep
with
fat
,
to
get
hot
for
the
pones
.
«
What
’
s
over
you
?
»
she
said
softly
.
«
I
’
m
a
-
goin
’
out
,
"
Rose
of
Sharon
said
.
«
Out
where
?
»
«
Goin
’
out
to
pick
cotton
.
»
«
You
can
’
t
,
"
Ma
said
.
«
You
’
re
too
far
along
.
»
«
No
,
I
ain
’
t
.
An
’
I
’
m
a
-
goin
’
.
»
Ma
measured
coffee
into
the
water
.
«
Rosasharn
,
you
wasn
’
t
to
the
pancakes
las
’
night
.
»
The
girl
didn
’
t
answer
.
«
What
you
wanta
pick
cotton
for
?
»
Still
no
answer
.
«
Is
it
’
cause
of
Al
an
’
Aggie
?
»
This
time
Ma
looked
closely
at
her
daughter
.
«
Oh
.
Well
,
you
don
’
need
to
pick
.
»
«
I
’
m
goin
’
.
»
«
Awright
,
but
don
’
you
strain
yourself
.
»
«
Git
up
,
Pa
!
Wake
up
,
git
up
!
»
Pa
blinked
and
yawned
.
«
Ain
’
t
slep
’
out
,
"
he
moaned
.
«
Musta
been
on
to
eleven
o
’
clock
when
we
went
down
.
»
«
Come
on
,
git
up
,
all
a
you
,
an
’
wash
.
»
The
inhabitants
of
the
car
came
slowly
to
life
,
squirmed
up
out
of
the
blankets
,
writhed
into
their
clothes
.
Ma
sliced
salt
pork
into
her
second
frying
pan
.
«
Git
out
an
’
wash
,
"
she
commanded
.
