“Anybody,” he said, “that would take pay from Viny fer the leetle mite she eats would be so stingy they’d screak. An’ Reenie kain’t charge fer waitin’ on her. Ef there’s anything plain in the Bible it’s how we ought to take keer o’ the sick.” “About them cloaks, Mis’ Dolly, you got fer Ray an’ Lissie,” Serena remembered to say, “I’ve studied out how I can pay you back by makin’ a fire an’ milkin’ fer you when the weather’s bad. I reckon that would suit you same as money.” “Oh, a lot better, Serena!” “I thought you’d like that,” she said, with a countenance as joyful as if the debt were already paid. As the weeks passed I found there was only one objection to Viny as a member of the household. Her “bad day” interfered with company, particularly if it fell on Saturday or Sunday. During her attacks, light and sound were like blows, and before entering on her torture she would implore Serena to keep the room darkened and silent. This meant that family and guests had to crowd around the little kitchen stove, impossibly subdued, until Viny “come out of it.” At those times I avoided the house and its immediate region. Never in my life had I watched the calendar so closely, fearing that I might make a mistake and hear those screams again. But once I ventured over on a “bad day,” waiting until five o’clock, when Viny would be “getting through.” I listened and heard only a low moaning. Serena let me in. Viny’s pretty head was weaving agonizedly, and in her broken moans I could distinguish an anguished appeal for help. “She’s bearable easy now,” said Serena, returning to the task of rubbing her patient’s head and arms and back. I went to the bed and looked at Viny. Of her eyes, only the whites could be seen. It was hard to believe that within an hour they would be soft, dark, intelligent. The sight was too ghastly, and I retreated to the porch. After a few moments Serena came out. “She’s still now,” she said. “She’ll lay there quiet fer haf an hour, then she’ll be all right, only awful weak.” I looked closely at Serena. It was clear that she was failing. “You can’t hold up at this,” I said, grasping at the commonplace. “I could ef folks would change off with me onct in a while. I could hold up fine. But what you reckon that ol’ Ann Hite said when I sent her word I’d wash fer her ef she’d come an’ stay with Viny jest once? She said it ’ud take a year’s washin’ to pay fer that.” “Serena,” I said, firmly defensive, “you needn’t look about for people as good as you are. They don’t exist.”