Mrs. Rhett broke away from Celeste, and with an hysterical cry, moved down the stairway and into the library. Though she closed the door behind her, the girls could hear her sobs.
“Now see what you’ve done!” Lorinda accused Celeste.
The woman paid no attention to her. Bending over the match sticks, she swayed back and forth as she muttered a strange chant. As Lorinda sought to pick up the charm, Celeste struck her wrist a sharp blow.
“Fool!” she exclaimed. “Would you let your mother die a slow and painful death? Do not touch this thing of evil until I have finished! If she had stepped over it, nothing would have saved her.”
Celeste kept on with her mutterings until at last she was through. “I have done all I can,” she said with a deep sigh. Gingerly she picked up the match ends and, dropping them into the living room fireplace, saw them consumed by flame.
“Now what is all this stupidity about Mother dying a slow death?” Lorinda demanded sternly. “How did that thing get into this house, and what does it mean?”
“How it came here I do not know,” replied the woman. “Its meaning is simple. In the jungles such symbols are sometimes placed on new graves, that the departing spirit may kindle a little fire and warm its cold hands in the other world.”
“That’s enough!” interrupted Lorinda. “Don’t tell me any more. It’s all so silly.”
“It is the truth.”
“Well, true or false, Mother is not to be told such nonsense. She’s upset enough as it is.”