Subject: RE:

From: "Stacey Hightower" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 14 Jul 2007 01:01:11 -0100

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   His sister had died the year after she had given him the double text, and his father the year after that. He was left thus, the sole support of his ailing mother, who transferred to the silent, sullen boy the irresistible rule of complaining weakness with which she had governed his father. it was thought she could not live long, and the boy stood in terror of a sudden death brought on by displeasure at some act of his. In the end, however, she died quietly in her bed, an old woman of seventy-three, nursed by her daughter-in-law, the widow of Jehiels only brother. Her place in the house was taken by Jehiels sister-in-law, a sickly, helpless woman, alone in the world except for Jehiel, and all the neighbors congratulated him on having a housekeeper ready to his hand. He said nothing. 
   When he went into the house, he found that he was almost fainting with fatigue. He sat down by the desk, and his head fell forward on the pile of pamphlets he had left there. For the first time in his life he thought of them without a sore heart. I suppose Nattyll go to every one of them places, he murmured as he dropped to sleep. 
   The church was icy cold, and he toiled in the cellar, stuffing wood into the flaming maw of the steam-heater, till it was time to ring the bell. As he gave the last stroke, Deacon Bradley approached him. Jehiel, Ive got a little job of repairing I want you should do at my store, he said in the loud, slow speech of a man important in the community. Come to the store to-morrow morning and see about it. He passed on into his pew, which was at the back of the church near a steam radiator, so that he was warm, no matter what the weather was. 
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