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the sinner.”
    “I know.” She sobbed deeply. “I was punished for my error. I was made to watch my brother’s children become the tools of the Devil because I could not learn to accept his wife. I know that now, and I repent my sins, I do. I have no words to tell you how great my remorse is.” She locked her hands together and clapped them between her knees. “I ought to have known. I ought to have thought about it, but it didn’t seem that important when I first came to care for them. I didn’t notice the signs that the Devil was working to destroy me and them.”
    “How . . . what signs?” Will Colney knew he was out of his depth with Kirsten Barenssen. He was not experienced enough to deal with this woman, but his calling demanded that he try. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.
    She ignored him. “I saw at the first that Hilda was filled with vanity, and I did all that I knew to show her how wrong she was. I prayed for her and with her, and I spoke often with my brother, begging him to use a firmer hand with her.”
    “And the other boy?” asked Colney, thinking of the eight-year-old Robert.
    “There is no Devil in him. He is only the poor victim of his mother’s folly and my lack of vigilance.” She was rigid and trembling. “Oh, God, God, how could I have failed so?”
    “God will forgive you, whatever you have done,” Preacher Colney assured her. “And His forgiveness will cast out the Devil to save those two boys.” It was the inspiration of the moment and he hoped it would be successful, at least for a short time.
    “I wanted my brother to find a better wife, to set aside that lighthearted harlot he married. May God pardon me for my sins, I wanted her gone. I know that divorce is as bad a sin as murder, for it countermands a sacrament, but in my heart I wanted my brother to put her away, to leave her to her sinful ways and take a wife who would honor him and his children. I prayed for that. Jesus, Jesus! I prayed for a sinful thing. And for that she was killed, and it is on my head, and the Devil has come for me through her boys.” She collapsed forward, her forehead on her knees, and she cried wildly.
    Perplexed and worried, Will Colney reached out and patted her shoulder. “God will forgive you, Sister Barenssen,” he said, noticing that she felt hot through her shapeless woolen dress.
    Under his hand she shuddered as she wept.

    —Laurie Grey—

    On the stage of the junior high school auditorium, Laurie Grey went through her last rehearsal of her solo before the recital. Her ballet teacher stood in the wings, gesturing with her hands as Laurie went through the most difficult part: tour jete, capriole front, tour jete, capriole back, tour jete, pas de chat and ending with eight coupe turns in a circle.
    “And bow,” said Miss Cuante as Laurie came to the end.
    Obediently Laurie bowed, her mulberry-colored leotard showing sweat stains under the arms and down the back as she came toward Miss Cuante. “How was it? I thought I took the last turns a little too wide.”
    “You did very well. If you do as well in the recital tomorrow I will be delighted,” said Miss Cuante as she reached for a towel. “You and Melanie will be the hits of the show.”
    “Melanie’s so good,” sighed Laurie as she accepted the towel and pulled it around her shoulders. “I wish I could do those leaps she does.”
    “You may, in time. Remember, she is two years older and seven inches taller than you are—it gives her an advantage.” She looked at the wall clock over the rear backstage door. “Your father will be waiting.”
    Laurie nodded. “He’s taking me to his new restaurant tonight,” she said, proud of the news.
    “Ah, yes, his new restaurant. How many does he have, now?” She had picked up her tape recorder and was putting it into her worn canvas tote that was already filled with dance togs, tapes, notebooks and a heavy sweater. “Don’t get cold,” she