“Yes, Mattie,” I whispered, trying not to frighten her.
“Jerry was a beautiful boy,” murmured Mattie. “Jerry—we named him for his grandfather—but his grandmother never knew it. Don’t you think his grandmother would have liked to know it?”
“Yes, Mattie.”
“You would never have forgotten him if you had ever seen him.”
“I shall never forget him now,” I said softly.
“No one ever saw him.”
The burden of her life came back to her as she regained consciousness completely. Tears trickled down her withered cheeks beneath her closed veined lids.
“No one ever saw him,” she repeated.
I was crying.
It was Mattie who sat up weakly and laid her thin arm around my shaking shoulders, the mood of motherliness so strong in her that she could protect even her worst enemy.