John feared； and that sometimes caused him to hate her。
Now she saw him and she asked； breaking off her conversation with Roy： ‘You hungry；little sleepyhead？’
‘Well！ About time you was getting up；’ said Sarah。
He moved to the table and sat down； feeling the most bewildering panic of his life； a needto touch things； the table and chairs and the walls of the room； to make certain that the roomexisted and that he was in the room。 He did not look at his mother； who stood up and went to thestove to heat his breakfast。 But he asked； in order to say something to her； and to hear his ownvoice：
‘What we got for breakfast？’
He realized； with some shame； that he was hoping she had prepared a special breakfast forhim on his birthday。
‘What you think we got for breakfast？’ Roy asked scornfully。 ‘You got a special cravingfor something？’
John looked at him。 Roy was not in a good mood。
‘I ain’t said nothing to you；’ he said。
‘Oh； I beg your pardon；’ said Roy； in the shrill； little…girl tone he knew John hated。
‘What’s the matter with you to…day？’ John asked； angry； and trying at the same time to lendhis voice as husky a pitch as possible。
‘Don’t you let Roy bother you；’ said their mother。 ‘He cross as two sticks this morning。’
‘Yeah；’ said John； ‘I reckon。’ He and Roy watched each other。 Then his plate was putbefore him： hominy grits and a scrap of bacon。 He wanted to cry； like a child： ‘But； Mama； it’s mybirthday！’ He kept his eyes on his plate and began to eat。
‘You can talk about your Daddy all you want to；’ said his mother； picking up her battlewith Roy； ‘but one thing you can’t say—you can’t say he ain’t always done his best to be a fatherto you and to see to it that you ain’t never gone hungry。’
‘I been hungry plenty of times；’ Roy said； proud to be able to score this point against hismother。
‘Wasn’t his fault； then。 Wasn’t because he wasn’t trying to feed you。 Than man shoveledsnow in zero weather when he ought’ve been in bed just to put food in your belly。’
‘Wasn’t just my belly；’ said Roy indignantly。 ‘He got a belly； too； I know—it’s a shame theway that man eats。 I sure ain’t asked him to shovel no snow for me。’ But he dropped his eyes；suspecting a flaw in his argument。 ‘I just don’t want him beating on me all the time；’ he said atlast。 ‘I ain’t no dog。’
She sighed； and turned slightly away； looking out of the window。 ‘Your Daddy beats you；’
she said； ‘because he loves you。’
Roy laughed。 ‘That ain’t the kind of love I understand； old lady。 What you reckon he’d doif he didn’t love me？’
‘He’d let you go right on；’ she flashed； ‘right on down to hell where it looks like you is justdetermined to go anyhow！ Right on； Mister Man； till somebody puts a knife in you； or takes youoff to jail！’
‘Mama；’ John asked suddenly； ‘is Daddy a good man？’
He had not known that he was going to ask the question； and he watched in astonishment asher mouth tightened and her eyes grew dark。
‘That ain’t no kind of question；’ she said mildly。 ‘You don’t know no better men； do you？’
‘Looks to me like he’s a mighty good man；’ said Sarah。 ‘He sure is praying all the time。’
‘You children is young；’ their mother said； ignoring Sarah and sitting down again at thetable； ‘and you don’t know how lucky you is to have a father what worries about you and tries tosee to it that you e up right。’
‘Yeah；’ said Roy； ‘we don’t know how lucky we is to have a father what don’t want you togo to movies； and don’t want you to play in the streets； and don’t want you to have no friends； and he don’t want this and he don’t want that； and he don’t want you to do nothing。 We so lucky tohave a father who just wants us to go to church and read the Bible and beller like a fool in front ofthe altar and stay home all nice and quiet； like a little mouse。 Boy； we sure is lucky； all right。 Don’tknow what I done to be so lucky。’
She laughed。 ‘You going to find out one day；’ she said； ‘you mark my words。’
‘Yeah；’ said Roy。
‘But it’ll be too late； then；’ she said。 ‘It’ll be too late when you e to be … sorry。’ Hervoice had changed。 For a moment her eyes met John’s eyes； and John was frightened。。 He felt thather words； after the strange fashion God sometimes chose to speak to men； were dictated byHeaven and were meant for him。 He was fourteen—was it too lat？ And thus uneasiness wasreinforced by the impression； which at that moment he realized had been his all along； that hismother was not saying everything she meant。 What； he wondered； did she say to Aunt Florencewhen they talked together？ Or to his father？ What were her thoughts？ Her face would never tell。
And yet； looking down at him in a moment that was like a secret； passing sign； her face did tellhim。 Her thoughts were bitter。
‘I don’t care；’ Roy said； rising。 ‘When I have children I ain’t going to treat them like this。’
John watched his mother； she watched Roy。 ‘I’m sure this ain’t no way to be。 Ain’t got no right tohave a houseful of children if you don’t know how to treat them。’
‘You mighty grown up this morning；’ his mother said。 ‘You be careful。’
‘And tell me something else；’ Roy said； suddenly leaning over his mother； ‘tell me howe he don’t never let me talk to him like I talk to you？ He’s my father； ain’t he？ But he don’tnever listen to me—no； I all the time got to listen to him。’
‘Your father；’ she said； watching him； ‘knows best。 You listen to your father； I guaranteeyou you won’t end up in no jail。’
Roy sucked his teeth in fury。 ‘I ain’t looking to go to no jail。 You think that’s all that’s inthe world is jails and churches？ You ought to know better than that； Ma。’
‘I know；’ she said； ‘there ain’t no safety except you walk humble before the Lord。 Yougoing to find it out； too； one day。 You go on； hardhead。 You going to e to grief。’
And suddenly Rot grinned。 ‘But you be there； won’t you； Ma—when I’m in trouble？’
‘You don’t know；’ she said； trying not to smile； ‘how long the Lord’s going to let me staywith you。’
Roy turned and did a dance step。 ‘That’s all right；’ he said。 ‘I know the Lord ain’t as hardas Daddy。 Is he； boy？’ he demanded of John； and struck him lightly on the forehead。
‘Boy； let me eat my breakfast；’ John muttered—though his plate had long been empty； andhe was pleased that Roy had turned to him。
‘That sure is a crazy boy；’ ventured Sarah； soberly。
‘Just listen；’ cried Roy； ‘to the little saint1 Daddy ain’t never going to have trouble with her—that one； she was born holy。 I bet the first words she ever said was： “Thank you； Jesus；” Ain’tthat so； Ma？’
‘You stop this foolishness；’ she said； laughing； ‘and go on about your work。 Can’t nobodyplay the fool with you all morning。’
‘Oh； is you got work for me to do this morning？ Well； I declare；’ said Roy； ‘what you gotfor me to do？’
‘I got the woodwork in the dining…room for you to do。 And you going to do it； too； beforeyou set foot out of this house。’
‘Now； why you want to talk like that； Ma？ Is I said I wouldn’t do it？ You know I’m a rightgood worker when I got a mind。 After I do it； can I go？’
‘You go ahead and do it； and we’ll see。 You better do it right。’
‘I always do it right；’ said Roy。 ‘You won’t know your old woodwork when I get through。’
‘John；’ said his mother； ‘you sweep the front room for me like a good boy； and dust thefurniture。 I’m going to clean up in here。’
‘Yes’m；’ he said； and rose。 She had forgotten about his birthday。 He swore he would notmention it。 He would not think about it any more。
To sweep the front room meant； principally； to sweep the heavy red and green and purpleOriental…style carpet that had once been that room’s glory； but was now so faded that it was all oneswimming color； and so frayed in places that it tangled with the broom。 John hated sweeping thiscarpet； for dust rose； clogging his nose and sticking to his sweaty skin； and he felt that should besweep it for ever； the clouds of dust would not diminish； the rug would not be clean。 It became inhis imagination his impossible； lifelong task； his hard trial； like that of a man he had read aboutsomewhere； whose curse it was to push a boulder up a steep hill； only to have the giant whoguarded the hill roll the boulder down again—and so on； for ever； throughout eternity； he was stillout there； that hapless man； somewhere at the other end of the earth； pushing his boulder up thehill。 He had John’s entire sympathy； for the longest and hardest part of his Saturday mornings washis voyage with the broom across this endless rug； and ing to the French doors that ended theliving…room and stopped the rug； he felt like an indescribably weary traveler who sees his home atlast。 Yet for each dustpan he so laboriously filled at the door…still demons added to the rug twentymore； he saw in the expanse behind him the dust that he had raised settling again into the carpet；and he gritted his teeth； already on edge because of the dust that filled his