"I am in a hurry. Terrible things have occurred."
The gypsy woman sighed and stepped aside. "Come in, then," she said, and
Mrs. Wladek entered slowly, peering round the front room.
"Come in the back," the gypsy woman said. "I have been preparing to help
you. But more is required."
It was Mrs. Wladek's turn to sigh. She reached into her purse and found
a fifty-cent piece, which she handed over very slowly.
"More is required," the gypsy woman said, looking at the coin in her
hand as if, Mrs. Wladek thought, it was less than a penny. Did not the
woman realize that fifty cents was a great deal of money for a poor old
woman?
No one had any pity any more.
She handed over another fifty cents and the gypsy woman nodded sadly,
pocketed the money and led the way to the back room.
"You will help me now?" Mrs. Wladek said.
"I will try."
The room was silent as the gypsy woman brought all her knowledge and
experience into play. Finally she looked at Mrs. Wladek and said: "A
very powerful curse has been put upon you. I can't help you."
"The Church will help me!" Mrs. Wladek screamed. "They have the power to
exorcise--"
"Do not speak to me of churches," the gypsy woman shouted.
Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "You, who steal my money, who steal the
bread from my old mouth without pity--"
"A woman must live," Marya Proderenska said, with great dignity.
* * * * *
The housekeeper had said Father Seador was at supper. This did not make
a difference. Mrs. Wladek's problem was certainly serious enough to
interfere with any man's supper. Father Seador was overweight in any
case; should he miss the entire meal it would not do him any harm. Marie
Wladek had a problem, and a serious one; let him miss his supper. It was
his job to help people.
But Father Seador would certainly not be in the best of moods.
He was not.
He arrived with his face set in firm lines of disapproval. Mrs. Wladek
got up from her chair and curtsied toward him, being very careful of her
old bones. He nodded.
"Rudi in trouble again?" he said at once, taking a chair.
Mrs. Wladek sat herself down slowly. When she was settled, she looked
over at the middle-aged man. "Rudi has a job."
"A job? A job?" Father Seador blinked. "That's fine. That's certainly
good news."
"So you think," Mrs. Wladek said crisply.
"Well, of course it's good news," Father Seador said.
"Responsibility ... steady income ... Mrs. Wladek, I'm sure this has
made you very happy, but if you'll pardon me." Father Seador stood up.
"I'm in the middle of--"
"Wait," Mrs. Wladek said. "This is not what I have come to talk to you
about. It is _why_ he has taken a job. It is _why_ I will be taking a
job."
"You?" Father Seador seemed incapable of speech. "Well, I--"
"I am bewitched," Mrs. Wladek said. "A curse is upon me."
"A curse? Well--" Father Seador stopped and cleared his throat. He sat
down again. He blinked. At last he said: "What's wrong, Mrs. Wladek?"
"I have told you," she said. "A curse. A curse. I want you to exorcise
this witch that has put on me a hex."
"Exorcise? Curse?" Father Seador coughed. "I'm sure you must be
mistaken, or--"
"Mistaken? I am not mistaken. I tell you there is a curse upon me."
The parlor was very quiet for a long time. At last Father Seador said:
"If you really believe you've been hexed, you'd better give me all the
details. When did you feel this ... this curse put upon you?"
"This morning," Mrs. Wladek said.
"And what kind of curse is this? I mean, what effect has it had?"
Mrs. Wladek's voice was as hard as iron. "It has made my son take a job.
It has made me want to look for a job. In time, I will not be able to
fight the curse, and I will take a job. And then--"
"I don't see anything wrong about that," Father Seador said mildly.
"You see nothing wrong in a poor old woman being forced to work? In a
boy forced to grind out his youth among package-wrappers? You see
nothing wrong in this?"
"Well, I ... we all have to work."
"Here?" Mrs. Wladek said with astonishment. "Here in America, you
believe that? It is not so. My own uncle Bedrich has told me years ago
it is not so. Do you dispute the word of my own uncle Bedrich?"
"My good woman," said Father Seador, "look around you ... your friends,
your neighbors--"
"Let us say no more about it," Mrs. Wladek interrupted. "There is a
curse upon me and I have called on you to remove this curse."
"How do you know this is a curse? Our minds do change, you know, and
they do strange things--"
"I have been told," Mrs. Wladek said.
"You've been told? By whom?"
Mrs. Wladek drew herself up in the chair. "By Marya Proderenska, the
gypsy fortune teller. She knows that--"
"A gypsy? You consulted a fortune teller?"
"I did."
"Mrs. Wladek, do you know what you are saying ... what you have done?
Don't you realize you have committed a sin against--"
But he was speaking to empty air. Marie Wladek was gone.
* * * * *
Gloria looked up at the little clock and sighed briefly. Five o'clock.
Another day gone already.
It was a shame, in a way, that time passed so quickly. Gloria didn't
feel the least bit tired. After all, she had spent the day in helping
people, and that was what made life worthwhile.
But it was quitting time. Staying late would give her the reputation of
an eager beaver, and that would make her unpopular. Not that she cared
for popularity for its own sake--certainly not!--but you couldn't do
your best work unless the others in your office were willing to help
you.
Leaving on time was a simple sacrifice to make for them.
She pulled open the desk drawer and got her beret. Then, as she was
putting it on, she remembered.
In the other drawer were the clay models.
She opened the drawer and pulled them out. She had barely reduced them
to a single amorphous lump when Mr. Fredericksohn passed her desk.
"What's that?" he said. "Clay?"
"A nephew of mine," Gloria said coolly. "He likes to play with clay. I
bought some and I'm taking it home."
"Ah," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Of course. Good night."
And he was gone. Gloria put the clay back into the drawer and reached
for her beret.