"What things?" he suspicioned.
"Teach you how to buy cheap, sell high. Catch a snow weasel, cut off its head, carry it warm in your hind pocket. There!"
"Aw," said Charlie.
She made haste. "Teach you to make yourself shotproof. So if anyone bangs at you with a gun, nothing happens."
When Charlie stayed silent, she gave him the secret in a high fluttering whisper. "Dig and stitch mouse-ear roots on Friday during full moon, and wear 'em around your neck in a white silk."
"You're crazy," Charlie said.
"Teach you how to stop blood or make animals stand frozen or make blind horses see, all them things I'll teach you! Teach you to cure a swelled-up cow and unbewitch a goat. Show you how to make yourself invisible!"
"Oh," said Charlie.
Old Lady's heart beat like a Salvation tambourine.
The knob turned from the other side.
"You," said Charlie, "are funning me."
"No, I'm not," exclaimed Old Lady. "Oh, Charlie, why, I'll make you like a window, see right through you. Why, child, you'll be surprised!"
"Real invisible?"
"Real invisible!"
"You won't fetch onto me if I walk out?"
"Won't touch a bristle of you, son."
"Well," he drawled reluctantly, "all right."
The door opened. Charlie stood in his bare feet, head down, chin against chest. "Make me invisible," he said.
"First we got to catch us a bat," said Old Lady. "Start lookin'!"
She gave him some jerky beef for his hunger and watched him climb a tree. He went high up and high up and it was nice seeing him there and it was nice having him here and all about after so many years alone with nothing to say good morning to but bird-droppings and silvery snail tracks.
Pretty soon a bat with a broken wing fluttered down out of the tree. Old Lady snatched it up, beating warm and shrieking between its porcelain white teeth, and Charlie dropped down after it, hand upon clenched hand, yelling.
That night, with the moon nibbling at the spiced pine cones, Old Lady extracted a long silver needle from under her wide blue dress. Gumming her excitement and secret anticipation, she sighted up the dead bat and held the cold needle steady-steady.
She had long ago realized that her miracles, despite all perspirations and salts and sulphurs, failed. But she had always dreamt that one day the miracles might start functioning, might spring up in crimson flowers and silver stars to prove that God had forgiven her for her pink body and her pink thoughts and her warm body and her warm thoughts as a young miss. But so far God had made no sign and said no word, but nobody knew this except Old Lady.
"Ready?" she asked Charlie, who crouched cross-kneed, wrapping his pretty legs in long goose-pimpled arms, his mouth open, making teeth. "Ready," he whispered, shivering.
"There!" She plunged the needle deep in the bat's right eye. "So!"
"Oh!" screamed Charlie, wadding up his face.
"Now I wrap it in gingham, and here, put it in your pocket, keep it there, bat and all. Go on!"
He pocketed the charm.
"Charlie!" she shrieked fearfully. "Charlie, where are you? I can't see you, child!"
"Here!" He jumped so the light ran in red streaks up his body. "I'm here, Old Lady!" He stared wildly at his arms, legs, chest, and toes. "I'm here!"