"It is the voodoo!" whispered Flower. "That face always comes. Once I saw it in the room, bending over the cradle when the baby was asleep. But I never can catch her. Aunt Tempy has seen her, so has Winfield. She has cast an evil spirit over my baby."
"Her face looked kind--it even looked worried," thought Carolina to herself, but she said nothing to Flower. She only sat rocking the sleeping baby, wiping the tears which rolled down her cheeks at the sight of the mother's anguish.
"Flower," she said, suddenly, "did you ever see Gladys Yancey before Miss Sue took her North?"
"Heaps of times."
"Did you ever hear how she was cured?"
"Why, Moultrie told Winfield that it was a new kind of religion that did it, and Winfield just hollered and laughed."
"Well, if I could prove to you that your baby could be made to see, would you holler and laugh?"
"I reckon I wouldn't. I'd kiss your feet."
"The only trouble," murmured Carolina, half to herself, "is that you are a Roman Catholic. We do not like to interfere with them."
"I am not a Roman Catholic," said Flower. "The lady who brought me up, and whom I was taught to believe was my aunt, was a Catholic, but I never was baptized. I believe Father Hennessey knows who I am, and that, if he would, he could clear up the mystery of my birth and give me back my happiness. But he never will until I join his church. He told me so."