Paulina Maria stopped, and looked at him with haughty wonder.  She was not yet intimidated, but she was surprised, and stirred with rising indignation.

“How’s your mother this morning, Jerome?” said she.

“Well ’s she can be,” replied Jerome, gruffly, with a wary eye upon her skirts when they swung out over her advancing knee; for Paulina Maria was minded to enter the house with no further words of parley.  He gathered himself up, in all his new armor of courage and defiance, and stood firm in her path.

“I’m going in to see your mother,” said Paulina Maria, looking at him as if she suspected she did not understand aright.

“No, you ain’t,” returned Jerome.

“What do you mean?”

“You ain’t goin’ in to see my mother this mornin’.”

“Why not, I’d like to know?”

“She’s got to be kept still and not see anybody but us, or she’ll be sick.”

“I guess it won’t hurt her any to see me.”  Paulina Maria turned herself sidewise, thrust out a sharp elbow, and prepared to force herself betwixt Jerome and the door-post like a wedge.

“You stand back!” said Jerome, and fixed his eyes upon her face.

Paulina Maria turned pale.  “What do you mean, actin’ so?” she said, again.  “Did your mother tell you not to let me in?”

“Mother’s got to be kept still and not see anybody but us, or she’ll be sick.  I ain’t goin’ to have anybody come talkin’ to her to-day,” said Jerome, with his eyes still fixed upon Paulina Maria’s face.

Paulina Maria was like a soldier whose courage is invincible in all tried directions.  Up to all the familiar and registered batteries of life she could walk without flinching, and yield to none; but here was something new, which savored perchance of the uncanny, and a power not of the legitimate order of things.  There was something frightful and abnormal to her in Jerome’s pale face, which did not seem his own, his young eyes full of authority of age, and the intimation of repelling force in his slight, childish form.

Paulina Maria might have driven a fierce watch-dog from her path with her intrepid will; she might have pushed aside a stouter arm in her way; but this defence, whose persistence in the face of apparent feebleness seemed to indicate some supernatural power, made her quail.  From her spare diet and hard labor, from her cleanliness and rigid holding to one line of thought and life, the veil of flesh and grown thin and transparent, like any ascetic’s of old, and she was liable to a ready conception of the abnormal and supernatural.

With one half-stern, half-fearful glance at the forbidding child in her path, she turned about and went away, pausing, however, in the vantage-point of the road and calling back in an indignant voice, which trembled slightly, “You needn’t think you’re goin’ to send folks home this way many times, Jerome Edwards!” Then, with one last baffled glance at the pale, strange little figure in the Edwards door, she went home, debating grimly with herself over her weakness and her groundless fear.