the windows herself, even the upstairs ones. "I would
have helped you," I told her.
"I know, dear, but don't fret about it. Work gets
me through the day. Jacob always says idle hands
make for mischief."
I shook my head. What sort of mischief could
she ever commit? And why did she permit her
husband to treat her as if she were another one of his
children and not his wife, his equal in this house? She
did everything he asked her to do and as far as I could
see, she never uttered a single complaint. He should
worship the ground she trod upon and he should have
been the one to have done the hard manual labor. My daddy would have done it for my mother, I thought. The more I learned about this family, the more it was
a mystery to me.
"Aunt Sara; I was invited to a party Saturday
night."
"Oh? A party? Already? What sort of party?
Birthday? School party?"
"No. Some of the girls in my class are having a
hot dog roast on the beach," I said. "It starts about
eight o'clock."
"What girls?"
I gave her the names. She thought a moment.
"Those are girls from good families, but you'll have to
ask your uncle," she said.
"Why can't you give me permission?" "You'll have to ask your uncle for something
like that," she replied. I could see that the very idea of
her solely giving me permission terrified her. She
busied herself with the dishware. If I wanted to go to
the beach party, I would have to talk to Uncle Jacob