The whipping I got
did not make much impression, but the after talks and the banishment
from "good company" were terrible.
Later, when I was called from my hiding-place, grandma saw that I had
been very miserable, and she insisted upon knowing what I had been
thinking about. Then I told her, reluctantly, that I had talked to God
and told Him I did not think that He was a very good Heavenly Father,
or He would not let me get into so much trouble; that I was mad at Him,
and didn't believe He knew how to mend dishes. She covered her face
with her apron and told me, sobbingly, that she had expected me to be
sorry for getting down her sugar bowl and for breaking its cover; that
I was so bad that I would "surely put poor old grandma's gray hair in
her grave, who had got one foot there already and the other on the
brink."
This increased my wretchedness, and I begged her to live just a little
longer so that I might show her that I would be good. She agreed to
give me another trial and ended by telling me about the "beautiful,
wicked angel who had been driven out of paradise, and spends his time
coaxing people to be bad, and then remembers them, and after they die,
takes them on his fork and pitches them back and forth in his fire."
Jakie had told me his name and also the name of his home.
Toward evening, my head ached, and I felt so ill that I crept close to
grandma and asked sorrowfully if she thought the devil meant to have me
die that night, and then take me to his hell.
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