to a dim white spot where the little goat was tethered to the fig tree.
"I see you, Nan. Don' be lonesome. I'm here wid my mind a-runnin on a child o my own too. I know how you feel wid you son gone. I know good."
The wind whistled and lashed at the trees. Mary's long skirt whipped at her legs and pulled her back inside the room.
She closed the door tight, put the bar into place and, filling her pipe, sat down to smoke one last pipeful before she went to bed. It was good to be under shelter with all the children well and safe and out of the cold black rain. Lord, what a night!
She looked up at the enlarged picture of Unex hanging on the wall. It was taken from a small one he sent her and it cost a lot, but it was good to have his face there over the mantel-shelf where she could look at it the first thing every morning when she got up and the last thing every night before she went to bed. How much like July he was. The same high bony forehead and full eyes, the same broad mouth. If the picture could talk, it might tell her where he was, how he was; then she could be happy and satisfied. But it could only stare and stay dumb.
