Sunday morning Saxon was beforehand in getting ready, and on her return to the kitchen from her second journey to peep through the front windows, Sarah began her customary attack.  
“It's a shame an' a disgrace the way some people can afford silk stockings,” she began. “Look at me, a-toilin' and a-stewin' day an' night, and I never get silk stockings—nor shoes, three pairs of them all at one time. But there's a just God in heaven, and there'll be some big surprises for some when the end comes and folks get passed out what's comin' to them.”
 
Tom, smoking his pipe and cuddling his youngest-born on his knees, dropped an surreptitiously on his cheek in token that Sarah was in a tantrum. Saxon herself to tying a ribbon in the hair of one of the little girls. Sarah heavily about the kitchen, washing and putting away the breakfast dishes. She straightened her back from the sink with a and glared at Saxon with fresh .
 
“You ain't sayin' anything, eh? An' why don't you? Because I guess you still got some natural shame in you a-runnin' with a prizefighter. Oh, I've heard about your goings-on with Bill Roberts. A nice he is. But just you wait till Charley Long gets his hands on him, that's all.”
 
“Oh, I don't know,” Tom intervened. “Bill Roberts is a pretty good boy from what I hear.”
 
Saxon smiled with superior knowledge, and Sarah, her, was infuriated.
 
“Why don't you marry Charley Long? He's crazy for you, and he ain't a drinkin' man.”
 
“I guess he gets outside his share of beer,” Saxon retorted.
 
“That's right,” her brother supplemented. “An' I know for a fact that he keeps a keg in the house all the time as well.”
 
“Maybe you've been from it,” Sarah snapped.
 
“Maybe I have,” Tom said, wiping his mouth reminiscently with the back of his hand.
 
“Well, he can afford to keep a keg in the house if he wants to,” she returned to the attack, which now was directed at her husband as well. “He pays his bills, and he certainly makes good money—better than most men, anyway.”
 
“An' he hasn't a wife an' children to watch out for,” Tom said.
 
“Nor everlastin' dues to unions that don't do him no good.”
 
“Oh, yes, he has,” Tom urged . “Blamed little he'd work in that shop, or any other shop in Oakland, if he didn't keep in good with the Blacksmiths. You don't understand conditions, Sarah. The unions have got to stick, if the men aren't to starve to death.”
 
“Oh, of course not,” Sarah . “I don't understand anything. I ain't got a mind. I'm a fool, an' you tell me so right before the children.” She turned on her , who startled and shrank away. “Willie, your mother is a fool. Do you get that? Your father says she's a fool—says it right before her face and yourn. She's just a plain fool. Next he'll be sayin' she's crazy an' puttin' her away in the . An' how will you like that, Willie? How will you like to see your mother in a straitjacket an' a padded cell, shut out from the light of the sun an' beaten like a nigger before the war, Willie, beaten an' clubbed like a regular black nigger? That's the kind of a father you've got, Willie. Think of it, Willie, in a padded cell, the mother that bore you, with the lunatics screechin' an' screamin' all around, an' the quick-lime eatin' into the dead bodies of them that's beaten to death by the cruel wardens—”
 
She continued tirelessly, painting with pessimistic strokes the growing black future her husband was for her, while the boy, fearful of some vague, incomprehensible , began to weep silently, with a , trembling underlip. Saxon, for the moment, lost control of herself.
 
“Oh, for heaven's sake, can't we be together five minutes without quarreling?” she blazed.
 
Sarah broke off from asylum conjurations and turned upon her sister-in-law.
 
“Who's quarreling? Can't I open my head without bein' jumped on by the two of you?”
 
Saxon her shoulders despairingly, and Sarah swung about on her husband.
 
“Seein' you love your sister so much better than your wife, why did you want to marry me, that's borne your children for you, an' slaved for you, an' for you, an' worked her fingernails off for you, with no thanks, an 'insultin' me before the children, an' sayin' I'm crazy to their faces. An' what have you ever did for me? That's what I want to know—me, that's cooked for you, an' washed your stinkin' clothes, and your socks, an' sat up nights with your when they was ailin'. Look at that!”
 
She thrust out a shapeless, foot, encased in a , untended shoe, the dry, raw leather of which showed white on the edges of cracks.
 
“Look at that! That's what I say. Look at that!” Her voice was rising and at the same time growing throaty. “The only shoes I got. Me. Your wife. Ain't you ashamed? Where are my three pairs? Look at that stockin'.”
 
Speech failed her, and she sat down suddenly on a chair at the table, glaring unutterable and . She arose with the stiffness of an , poured herself a cup of cold coffee, and in the same jerky way sat down again. As if too hot for her lips, she filled her saucer with the greasy-looking, nondescript fluid, and continued her set glare, her breast rising and falling with staccato, mechanical movement.
 
“Now, Sarah, be c'am, be c'am,” Tom pleaded anxiously.
 
In response, slowly, with utmost deliberation, as if the destiny of empires rested on the certitude of her act, she turned the saucer of coffee upside down on the table. She lifted her right hand, slowly, hugely, and in the same slow, huge way landed the open palm with a sounding slap on Tom's cheek. Immediately thereafter she raised her voice in the , , madness of hysteria, sat down on the floor, and rocked back and in the throes of an grief.
 
Willie's silent weeping turned to noise, and the two little girls, with the fresh ribbons in their hair, joined him. Tom's face was and white, though the cheek still blazed, and Saxon wanted to put her arms comfortingly around him, yet dared not. He over his wife.
 
“Sarah, you ain't feelin' well. Let me put you to bed, and I'll finish tidying up.”
 
“Don't touch me!—don't touch me!” she screamed, jerking violently away from him.
 
“Take the children out in the yard, Tom............