But the mountain girl rebelliously continued: "Look at me! Just look at
me! If that there God of your'n is so all-fired good, what did He go an'
let my pap git drunk for, an' beat me like he done when I was a baby,
an' make me grow up all crooked like what I be? 'Good'? Hell! A dad
burned ornery kind of a God I call Him!"

For some time, Auntie Sue did not speak, but stood with her face
upturned to the sky. Then the low, gentle voice again broke the silence:
"See, Judy, dear; the light is almost gone now, and there is not a cloud
anywhere. Yesterday evening, you remember, we could not see the sunset
at all, the clouds were so heavy and solid. The moon will be lovely
to-night. I think I shall wait for it."

"You-all best set down then," said Judy, speaking again in her
querulous, drawling monotone. "I'll fetch a chair." She brought a
comfortable rustic rocking-chair from the farther end of the porch; then
disappeared into the house, to return a moment later with a heavy shawl.
"Hit'll be a-turnin' cold directly, now the sun's plumb down," she said,
"an' you-all mustn't get to chillin', nohow."

Auntie Sue thanked her with gentle courtesy, and, reaching up, caught
the girl's hand as Judy was awkwardly arranging the wrap about the thin
old shoulders. "Won't you bring a chair for yourself, and sit with
me awhile, dear?" As she spoke, Auntie Sue patted the hard, bony hand
caressingly.

But Judy pulled her hand away roughly, saying: "You-all ain't got no
call ter do sich as that ter me. I'll set awhile with you but I ain't
a-needin' no chair." And with that, she seated herself on the floor, her