“Anyhow, you wouldnt believe what that woman was a-doing. They was two big cabinets full of dead butterflies on pins. Davidson must have collected them. She was a-smashing them cabinets with a lamp. Jesus, the glass flew everwhere. She had a cut on her arm where a piece hit her. Hit’s a wonder she didnt hurt herself bad. I hollered at her to stop, told her she had to git out of the house. And she turned and looked at me—slow like—” his eyes widened, “and she called me Francesco, says I’m her baby. I picked her up to carry her out but she was yelling that she had to take the butterflies with her. I tried to pull her away from them but she wouldn’t budge so I helped her gather up them little panels with all the butterflies stuck on. And she headed down the hill with them, and then she made me pull all the butterflies off and throw them in the creek.” He shook his head. “And then she made me sit there by the creek and she washed my face.”

“That poor woman!”

He stood up.

“I didnt mind it,” he said. “What I seen in her eyes—What am I going to do? I brung her up to the farmhouse and Annadel’s got her now. But she’s kind of looney.”

“I’ll go take a look at her.”

I had to run to keep up with him.

“She thinks I’m her son. But I cant take care of no crazy woman.”

When we reached the porch I grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“Why didnt you tell her you wasnt her boy?”

“Didnt have the heart. I’m turned upside down about it.”

The woman sat in a rocking chair in the kitchen. She wore a white shawl about her shoulders. Her face was unlined, beautiful and peaceful. She spoke softly to herself. When she looked at Rondal, she gave no sign that she recognized him. I saw the disappointment on his face. He left me with her.

I learned by asking among the miners that her son Francesco had married and fathered a son before he was killed, and that the daughter-in-law worked in Ricco’s Italian Bakery at Justice. I reached her by telephone and she agreed to take charge of her mother-in-law. She had not known the woman was ill, she said, for Lytton Davidson had assured her all was well. She would arrange for a bed in the Miners’ State Hospital.

Rondal insisted on taking her to the train. She walked slowly, as though she was under water. Before he handed her up to the conductor, he kissed her upon the forehead. She smiled up at him with the face of an angel, pressed his hand to her cheek.

“Francesco, you such a good boy.”