# Scarlet Sister Mary (1928, Bobbs-Merrill Company)/Chapter 25

Mary mended fast and before long she was her old strong able self, out in the field, doing a regular field hand's work. Every morning she thanked God that she was well again, and that the babies were all three thriving.
The patches she had planted all around her house were growing well. Cabbages were heading, watermelons and figs and peaches were ripening. Okra and tomatoes were bearing fruit enough to keep a big pot filled with soup. The hens laid and hatched well, and the red rooster strutted about helping them find worms and grass seed for themselves and their children. Portulacas blossomed by the front door-step, a morning-glory vine had climbed clear up over the shed-room door and held it fast with curly green fingers. Everything went well except Seraphine, who stayed weary and thin and down in the heart.
Mary tried to cheer her up, to make her eat, but all her coaxing and cooking did the girl little good, until Mary took her away off in the woods one morning and talked seriously to ​her. As they sat on the ground under the tall pines, Mary said that fretting was worse than sickness to thin your blood and dry up your flesh. If she had missed and made a mistake one time, that was not so bad; everybody makes mistakes, that is no disgrace. Not a soul in the whole world but Maum Hannah knew that the nice little girl-baby was not Mary's own. It was a nice little child. Seraphine ought to be proud of it. It was a good child to have around, because it had never looked on its daddy's face. That very thing gave it the power to cure sickness, not only things like fevers and rheumatism and thrash in babies' mouths, but all kinds of bad ailments like swelling and breaking-outs on your skin.
Seraphine listened with a solemn face, tears began pouring out of her eyes, then she bent over and crumpled up no bigger than a little child. Mary put both arms around her and drew her up close.
"Now, honey, don' cry so hard. Si May-e loves you just de same as e ever did. Evybody loves you. Budda Ben's eyes ain' big enough to see you. Big Boy is most dead e loves you so much." Instead of helping, this kind of talk made Seraphine cry more. It was doing harm instead of good. So she tried different talk.
​She drew her arms away and stood Seraphine on her feet. "Look at me, gal. You think I don' know what ails you? I do. You ain' frettin because you done wrong. No. You's frettin because one o dem town mens tricked you and dropped you. You is a fool. As much mens as Gawd put in his world, any 'oman what would shed a tear over one man ain' got good sense. You make me pure shame. Shame. Me an' de chillen an' Budda Ben all has been a-pinchin an' savin an' doin on half-rations so you could stay yonder to school until you got a depluma. Gawd knows what a depluma is, but I know I rather have dat lil gal-child yonder home den all de deplumas in de world. You got to stop dis behavishness or I'm gwine to tell evybody on you. Budda Ben and Big Boy an' evybody else."
"No, Si May-e—don' tell Budda——"
"If you don' eat more victuals so some can stick to you ribs, I'm gwine to tell em sho as you live. None o my chillen ain' never been weakly before now. I can' stand to see a weakly 'oman, creepin around a-lookin doleful. Nobody can stand em. If you want people to hate de sight o you, stay weakly." Mary smiled and softened her voice. "Listen, gal, if you wants de mens to be raven 'bout you, don' never gi em a ​chance to feel sorry fo you. You better listen to me; an' eat a plenty and get fat an' sassy again. Soon as cotton-pickin time comes an' I get some money ahead, I'll buy you a hat an' a dress an' some shoes an' pay you way on de boat to town. You go let dat man what fooled you see how you forgot em. You go look em straight in de eye, suck you teeth at em, den walk off an' leave em. Walk off proudful. Strut. Dat is de way to treat big-doins town men. Let em see you ain' noways down-hearted.
"I wasn' no older'n you when July done me de same way. My Unex was just 'bout de same age as you lil baby when I found out how July was a-runnin roun.—It like to kill me at first. I fretted haf to death—I couldn' sleep—neither eat—I got po as a snake. I sure did love dat low-down July. I did. Same like you love some strange man yonder to town."
Seraphine looked up, and a pitiful smile flitted over her lips.
"It don' pay to love mens too much, gal. When a man finds out fo-true a 'oman is crazy 'bout em, he don' crave dat 'oman no mo. Dat's de very time e gwine crave some new 'oman altogedder. Gawd made mens so. It don' pay to love no one man too much. It's all right to like em. But don' never let yousef tink on one ​man all de time. It'll run you crazy if it don' kill you."
Seraphine's face was thoughtful. It had a faraway look. She stood with her arms akimbo. Her full skirts, tied up short with a string around her hips, were wet with dew. Her plain homespun waist, buttoned straight down the front, was open at the neck where swift beats showed how fast her heart was running, but her bare feet, brown as the dirt they stood on, held her weight up firmly.
She was almost crying, yet ready to smile again, as she gave Mary a hug around the neck. "Si May-e, you's de best ting ever was, yes, you is. I love you too good, Si May-e."
"I'm glad, honey, I need a lot o lovin. Now, le's go home and milk de cow an' de goat an' give all dem babies a good supper."
"I hungry myself. I'm gwine cook some fried corn-cakes to eat wid dem peas I left in de pot dis mawnin."