"We do want it; bring it back."

"Okay," said the delivery man, turning.

"We don't want it," Morgen said. "Take it away."

The delivery man hesitated, holding the package without affection. "Look," he began reproachfully. He gave a little shove with the package, as though to toss it out through the door. "I don't want the package," he said to Bess, "she don't want it," and he gestured with his head at Morgen, "you say wait, wait, you do want it. All right. There's thirty-seven dollars and eighty-five cents on this package. Tell me now, I either go out the door with the package or I leave the package here and I go out the door with thirty-seven dollars and eighty-five cents. Well?" He stopped, holding the package out ingratiatingly.

Morgen c.o.c.ked her head at Bess. "Well?"

Bess stood undecided, her face flushed and angry. She was unused to easy communication, and she did not think quickly. She looked from the man to Morgen, both watching her with interest, and then turned abruptly into Beth, who was first aware of Morgen's regard, and then perceived the delivery man and the package.

"Ooh," said Beth, "is it something for me? Morgen, did you get me a present?"

"No," Morgen said. "The man is going to take it away."

After a minute the delivery man s.h.i.+fted the package, sighed, and opened the door again, waiting for a minute on the threshold as though expecting to be called back again. "You never get me anything," Beth said. Two large tears started down her cheeks. "Everyone gets presents but me, and I guess no one likes me, because no one ever gives me presents."

The door closed gently. Through the gla.s.s of the door Morgen could see the delivery man going down the steps to his truck. He stopped once, and looked back at the house for a minute, and then shrugged and tossed the package into the truck.

"Someday I'll get even with you, Morgen."

"Oh, stop talking like that." Morgen stamped back into the living room and felt that Bess was following her without sound; Morgen turned, with a faint cold chill going up her back and said, over-heartily, "Come on, Bess, be reasonable; I told you the stuff was going back."

"You said I could keep half of it."

"You said you had given me the whole list."

"Who'd tell the truth to you?" Bess said scornfully. "You never heard of the truth in your life-you tell lies and you make up lies and you try to hurt people with lies, and you won't let anyone come around you unless they tell you ties. You're a bad bad bad-"

"Now look," Morgen said. The quick apprehension she had felt at Bess' approach stayed with her; she was a little bit unsure, and she raised her voice. "Now look," she said, standing with defiance in the middle of her own living-room carpet, chosen and put down under her supervision, surrounded by walls whose color she had dictated, and windows whose view met with her approval, standing firm and not to be shaken by any alien fear, "now look," she said, "this is all I am going to take from you." She swept her arm largely around, as one who calls forces to her support, and said in a less emphatic tone than she intended, "You've driven me out of patience, the way your mother did before you. You blame me the way she did, and call me names, and when I look at you all I can see is her whining face. And do not-" she said, gesturing, "try to give me any phony tears or stories about your grief; I know what you thought of your mother."

Bess wavered, on the edge of tears, or perhaps on the edge of Elizabeth; she brought up her handkerchief and looked from side to side, but Morgen said, "If you send Elizabeth and run away, now, you'd better not come back. Because if you ever do come back, I'm going to be waiting right here for you, like a cat on a mousehole, and the minute I see you looking out at me, I'm going to be after you; so, if you want to go, go, but remember I tell you not to come back once you're gone."

"I'm not going," Bess said, taking down the handkerchief. "I," she said, smiling at Morgen, "am not ever going. You can just plan, Morgen, on having me from now on, thinking of anything I can do to make you miserable, lying awake nights hating you, and wis.h.i.+ng you were dead. You won't," she finished, with loving slowness, "you won't ever be rid of me."

"You sound like your mother," Morgen said. "You sound exactly precisely not to be mistakenly like your G.o.dd.a.m.n whining mother and if I were you I would stop it right there because, believe me, Miss Elizabeth Beth Betsy Bess, your mother is the last person I want to hear talking right now-you hear? I spent one rotten lifetime with her and I was just as glad to see the last of her as I'm going to be to see the last of you." Shouting, Morgen turned and swept wildly up and down the room, but never came close to her niece. "We're going to put you in a place," Morgen said, speaking quietly again, her voice shaking, "into an inst.i.tution, a madhouse, a head-wh.o.r.ehouse, where you can take yourself apart and put yourself together again like a G.o.dd.a.m.n jigsaw puzzle and all the pretty doctors will stand around and clap their hands when you subdivide like a building lot and all the nice nurses will pat your head when you split four ways from Sunday and then they'll all giggle and drag you off and lock you up and I'll be rid of you and the world will be rid of you, and your precious doctor will be rid of you and the world will be a better place with you going to pieces in private. And, now I think of it, just to make you happy I'll take your piles and piles of money and I'll buy up a couple of acres of swampland and I'll dig it up and go and pour it on your late lamented mother's grave, so the world will know what I think of what she did to you and me. And if they ever let you out again-which they won't, I tell you-and you come all whining and old to me and begging for me to take care of you-which I can tell you I won't-and your mouthing doctor to come and put the pieces back together-which I will just bet he won't-we can shove the mud off your mother's last resting place and dig up enough of it to put you in, and your poor old Auntie will buy a marble bench to come and sit on and snicker over the two of you dead. And to think," Morgen said at last, and wearily, "that I thought your father was the finest man who ever lived."

She sat down on the couch, tired and miserable and afraid. I can't back out now, she was thinking, and she moved defensively as Bess took a step forward.

"I don't believe you," Bess said flatly. "You won't in all your life be as good or as nice as one-quarter of my mother. It's true," she insisted defiantly, as Morgen raised her head in fury, "and you know it too. And everyone else knows it, and I'd even rather go to . . . go to a place like you said, than stay here with you. Even Betsy," she cried wildly, crossing her arms and holding her shoulders, as though keeping herself compact, and solid, "she wants to run away again, doesn't she? Away from you? She hates it here, doesn't she? She wants to get away and find her mother again, doesn't she? What do you suppose she wants from you-love?"

"What mother?" Morgen said softly, looking up. "Whose mother?"

"Betsy's mother, in New York. That's what she was looking for, and she's going back as soon as she can, and when she finds her mother she won't ever come back here because her mother wouldn't let her near you."

"Her mother?" Aunt Morgen's voice was enormous. "Her mother? That foul thing that married her father? She wants that?"

"Give me a pencil, and ask her."

"Bring Betsy here." Aunt Morgen was commanding, imperial. "Bring that girl to me at once."

"But you said-"

"Bring me Betsy."

"Well?" Betsy smiled provokingly.

Morgen leaned back and breathed heavily. With Betsy, at least, she need not be so on guard; Betsy represented no danger and brought no hatred. "Why did you go to New York?" Morgen asked quietly.

"None of your business," said Betsy.

"Betsy, I want to know."

"None of your business."

"Were you listening while I talked to Bess?"

"Couldn't. Tried, but couldn't, I heard you yelling, though." Betsy giggled. "Even that far down I couldn't miss your yelling."

"Tell me this, then, Betsy, honestly. Are you going to try and run away again?"

Betsy tossed her head. "In came the doctor, in came the nurse, in came the lady with the big fat purse."

"Betsy, I command you-"

"Try and make me."

"Doctor Wright is coming," said Morgen, who found herself wanting almost irresistibly to laugh. "He'll keep you in line, young lady."

"I won't stay," Betsy said. "How's he going to make me?"

Elizabeth, coming to the surface, found herself chanting, ". . . Maw told Paw; Johnnie got a licking, hee haw haw." She turned red, looking at her aunt. "I'm sorry," she said.

Aunt Morgen suddenly found it safe to laugh. "You silly baby," she said, laughing and full of relief.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Not at you, I'm not. How do you feel?"

"Fine," said Elizabeth, pleased. "I really do feel fine. Except," she added, after a minute and with reluctance, "I guess I do have a headache."

"Well, take something for it," Morgen said. "There's going to be a lot of noise around here for a while."

"Have I done something?"

"Nope." Morgen sighed, and looked at the clock. "Your doctor's on his way."

"To see you, Aunt? I never thought-"

"Kiddo." Aunt Morgen sighed again, and then said, "Another ten minutes, and I'd pa.s.s for a patient. They could give us a room together, maybe."

"I don't understand," said Elizabeth, falteringly.

"I didn't know when I was well off, is all," Morgen said. "I had to send you to a doctor, we were doing all right till then."

"I won't go any more if you don't want me to. I only went to please you, anyway. I always . . ." Elizabeth came forward timidly and touched her aunt on the arm. "I always tried to do what you wanted me to."

"Why, kiddo?" Morgen looked at her clearly for a minute. "I never did anything you wanted me to; why would you want to be nice to me?"

Elizabeth smiled shyly. "Just because my black hen laid eggs for gentlemen; I always thought you lashed him and you slashed him and you laid him through the mire-"

"Will you please shut up?" Morgen said. "I don't really think I can stand-"

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "I only wanted to-"

"Oh, lord." Morgen patted her on the head. "I wasn't talking to you, kiddo, I was talking to-"

"Me, dear?"

"Yes, you, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Oh, lord." Stamping, Morgen made for the kitchen and came back with the brandy bottle. "Eleven o'clock in the morning or not eleven o'clock in the morning, Morgen is going to have a big full intoxicating gla.s.s of brandy and I defy the pack of you to stop me."

"Sot," said Elizabeth, but when Morgen swung on her she was standing, unaware, smiling fearfully through her tears.

"Oh G.o.d oh G.o.d," said Morgen, sitting down on the couch. "Elizabeth, do Auntie a favor, will you?"

"Yes?" said Elizabeth, coming forward eagerly.

"Just don't talk to me anymore, not for a while, not till the doc gets here, will you?"

"Jumped into a bramble bush and scratched out both his eyes. Of course not," said Elizabeth. "I mean, if you want me to be quiet, I'll keep perfectly-"

"Thanks," said Morgen.

"There was an old woman lived under the hill," said Elizabeth. "If she's not moved away-"

"Brandy, brandy," said Morgen. "Food for the mad."

"-got a licking, hee haw haw."

"Elizabeth, sister Elizabeth," Morgen said, "is that the doctor coming?"

Elizabeth went to the window and looked out carefully, as she had been taught, between the curtains. "I think so," she said doubtfully. "I've never seen him with a hat on before."

"He can keep his hat on if he wants," Morgen said. She rose and Elizabeth turned from the window and came over to her and put her hands firmly on Morgen's shoulders and pushed her down again onto the couch. "What the devil?" said Morgen, struggling, stunned because for a few minutes she had forgotten to be afraid. "What the devil are you doing?"

Bess laughed, one knee on Morgen's chest. "You're old," she said, in pleased surprise. "I'm stronger than you."

"Get out of my way, you misbegotten jellyfish," Morgen said fiercely, "I'll step on you."

"I don't think so," Bess said, and laughed again. "Poor Morgen," she said. "He'll ring the doorbell and ring the doorbell and ring the doorbell, and he'll decide that it's another of Betsy's tricks and he'll go away again. And then when he's gone I'll let you get up again. Maybe."

Morgen was helplessly caught, as much by the indignity as by the weight of her niece pressing her down; she looked up into the flushed, wicked face of her niece, and closed her eyes in distaste, trying to gather her strength, to move, without even breath to shout.

"Now you know how I feel," Bess said, "when you're talking to Betsy."

"Betsy," Morgen said. "Betsy."

Betsy gasped, and moved aside, sc.r.a.ping her shoes against Morgen's legs, digging in her elbows trying to scramble off; "You're lucky she was frightened," Betsy said. "I almost couldn't get out."

"She was frightened!" said Morgen fervently.

Betsy looked around at her nervously, and s.h.i.+vered. "I can't stay," she said. "I almost couldn't get here at all. Everything's mixed up." The doorbell rang, and Morgen, who had put her arm affectionately around Betsy's shoulders, found that she was embracing Bess, and drew back violently. "Don't think I'll forget this," Morgen said quietly to Bess, standing off. "Laying hands on me." She started carefully around Bess, out of reach, to get to the door, but Bess moved quickly, and darted past her, screaming, "I'll kill her, I won't let her do it anymore-I'll make her stop it," and Morgen could not catch her before she ran down the hall and threw open the front door and then fell back before Doctor Wright.

"Good morning," said Doctor Wright civilly, and then, to Morgen, "Good morning, Miss Jones."

"Good morning, Doctor Wright," said Morgen, blowing slightly, "nice of you to drop in."

"No trouble at all, I a.s.sure you. Although I ordinarily see patients only in my office, in this case, naturally I was willing to make an-Bess? Is something wrong?"

"Where did you put her?" Bess demanded, staring from one to the other of them.

"Odd," said the doctor. "Where would I put her? Since I a.s.sume you mean your aunt?"

"I thought she was coming again," said Bess, breathless, and staring wide-eyed.

"The chances are remote. Since I a.s.sume you mean your mother," said the doctor. "May I put my own coat on the bannister rail, Miss Jones?"

"By all means," said Morgen. "My niece and I were just talking of you."

"Complimentary, I hope." The doctor beamed genially at both of them. "Now, then," he said. "Bess upset?"

"Overexertion," said Morgen evilly. "Shadow-boxing."

"Pity," said the doctor. "Come in and sit down, Miss Bess. If you will forgive," he said over his shoulder, "my presumption in making free with your house."

"Certainly," said Morgen. "Not at all."

"Now, then," Doctor Wright said, and gestured Bess to go ahead of him, but she pushed him aside and turned wildly to the door. "I can't talk to you," she said, "don't you see that she's got to be stopped? She'll ruin us all . . . it's her birthday," she told the doctor tearfully. "No one remembered."

"It was, too," said Morgen. "I had a present for her and afterwards I took it out and threw it in the trash."

"My mother's coming home," said Bess, and turned unexpectedly, saying it, into Betsy, who made a face at Morgen. "I got back after all," she said, pleased.

"Good morning, Betsy," said Doctor Wright.

"You here at last? Good morning, wondrous-wise."

"Betsy," said the doctor urgently, "tell us what Bess was trying to do-do you know?"