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Philosophy in Ovid, Ovid as Philosopher
Philosophy in Ovid,
Ovid as Philosopher
Edited by
KAT HA R I NA VO L K A N D G A R E T H D. W I L L IA M S
1
3
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
Press in the UK and certain other countries.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197610336.001.0001
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America
Contents
Preface vii
Contributors ix
Introduction 1
Katharina Volk and Gareth D. Williams
PA RT I : OV I D’ S S A PI E N T IA
1. Ouidius sapiens: The Wise Man in Ovid’s Work 23
Francesca Romana Berno
PA RT I I : T H E E R O T IC C O R P U S
2. Elegy, Tragedy, and the Choice of Ovid (Amores 3.1) 49
Laurel Fulkerson
3. Ovid’s Ars amatoria and the Epicurean Hedonic Calculus 63
Roy Gibson
4. Criticizing Love’s Critic: Epicurean parrhesia as an Instructional
Mode in Ovidian Love Elegy 84
Erin M. Hanses
5. Ovid’s imago mundi muliebris and the Makeup of the World
in Ars amatoria 3.101–290 104
Del A. Maticic
6. Ovid’s Art of Life 124
Katharina Volk
PA RT I I I : M ETA MOR PH O S E S
7. Keep Up the Good Work: (Don’t) Do It like Ovid
(Sen. QNat. 3.27–30) 145
Myrto Garani
vi Contents
PA RT I V: T H E E X I L IC C O R P U S
12. Ovid against the Elements: Natural Philosophy,
Paradoxography, and Ethnography in the Exile Poetry 251
K. Sara Myers
13. Akrasia and Agency in Ovid’s Tristia 267
Donncha O’Rourke
14. Intimations of Mortality: Ovid and the End(s) of the World 287
Alessandro Schiesaro
15. The End(s) of Reason in Tomis: Philosophical Traces,
Erasures, and Error in Ovid’s Exilic Poetry 308
Gareth D. Williams
PA RT V: A F T E R OV I D
16. Philosophizing and Theologizing Reincarnations of Ovid:
Lucan to Alexander Pope 335
Philip Hardie
This volume grew out of the editors’ longstanding interest in two apparently
unrelated topics: Ovidian poetry and Roman philosophy. While many clas-
sical Latin poets were increasingly studied for their philosophical allusions
and affiliations, Ovid was until relatively recently still often considered an
irreverent virtuoso averse to serious thought. But could an Augustan poeta
doctus really be so out of touch with one of the most significant intellectual
developments of his time? Was there no philosophy in Ovid—and no way of
seeing Ovid as a philosopher?
With these questions in mind, we contacted an international group of
scholars— both seasoned Ovidians and younger colleagues— and asked
whether they might be interested in participating in a conference on Ovidius
Philosophus. The response was overwhelmingly enthusiastic; one person
even told us that he had been waiting his “whole life for this conference to
come along”! The event took place at Columbia University on March 29–30,
2019, and the chapters in this volume are (sometimes significantly) revised
versions of the papers delivered then. We are most grateful to the authors for
making the conference a success and contributing their work to the volume.
In organizing the conference and seeing the publication to completion,
we have relied on the support of many individuals and institutions, which
it is a pleasure to acknowledge in these pages. The Stanwood Cockey Lodge
Foundation generously subsidized both the original event and the volume’s
preparation for publication. Additional funding for the conference came
from the Columbia Department of Classics, the Columbia University
Seminars, Columbia’s Center for the Ancient Mediterranean, and Columbia’s
Society of Fellows and Heyman Center for the Humanities. We are most
grateful for their support and also wish to convey our heartfelt thanks to
Lien van Geel for her skill and good cheer in taking care of the conference
logistics.
We are delighted that our exploration into Ovidian philosophy has found
a home with Oxford University Press and thank Stefan Vranka for his be-
lief in the project and for his help and support throughout. We are grateful
to Ponneelan Moorthy for steering the book through production and to
viii Preface
Donald Watt for his impeccable copy-editing, as well as to the Press’s anon-
ymous readers, whose detailed comments and suggestions have, we believe,
enabled us to improve the volume significantly. For his invaluable help in
preparing the manuscript for submission, we wish to thank our editorial as-
sistant John Izzo, whose eagle eye has saved us from many an error.
The volume’s cover image is by the Spanish photographer Joaquín Bérchez
from the book Photographica Ovidiana (edited by him and his son Esteban
Bérchez Castaño), a serendipitous discovery made by one of the editors
during a stay in Madrid. We are most grateful to Joaquín for permitting us to
use his beautiful photograph, which we believe provides a most fitting entry
to our volume.
KV
GDW
New York, June 2021
Contributors
The Project
The sixteen essays collected in this volume began life as papers delivered at
a conference held at Columbia University in March 2019. This event, organ-
ized by the present editors under the title of Ovidius Philosophus: Philosophy
in Ovid and Ovid as a Philosopher, brought together a distinguished group
of scholars from both sides of the Atlantic in an attempt to explore from dif-
ferent but mutually informing viewpoints Ovid’s profound engagement with
philosophical sources and influences across his poetic corpus.
Ovid’s close familiarity with philosophical ideas and with specific philo-
sophical texts has long been recognized, perhaps most prominently in the
Pythagorean, Platonic, Empedoclean, and Lucretian shades that have been
seen to color his Metamorphoses. This philosophical component has often
been perceived as a feature implicated in, and subordinate to, Ovid’s larger
literary agenda, both pre-and post-exilic; and because of the controlling
influence conceded to that literary impulse, readings of the philosophical
dimension have often focused on the perceived distortion, ironizing, or
parodying of the philosophical sources and ideas on which Ovid draws, as if
his literary orientation inevitably compromises or qualifies a “serious” philo-
sophical commitment.
The Columbia conference sought to counter this tendency by (i) consid-
ering Ovid’s seriousness of engagement with, and his possible critique of, the
philosophical writings that allusively inform his works; (ii) questioning the
feasibility of separating out the categories of the “philosophical” and the “lit-
erary” in the first place; (iii) exploring the ways in which Ovid may offer un-
usual, controversial, or provocative reactions to received philosophical ideas;
and (iv) investigating the case to be made for viewing the Ovidian corpus
not just as a body of writings that are often philosophically inflected, but
also as texts that may themselves be read as philosophically adventurous and
Katharina Volk and Gareth D. Williams, Introduction In: Philosophy in Ovid, Ovid as Philosopher. Edited
by: Katharina Volk and Gareth D. Williams, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197610336.003.0001
2 Introduction
Problems of Definition
But what precisely do we mean by the term Ovidius philosophus? Did Ovid’s
philosophical affinities and preferences as glimpsed or revealed in his writings
shift or evolve over time, and can any pattern of philosophical consistency or
development be discerned across his oeuvre? To what extent might any such
1 To focus for now only on Anglophone contributions, see on Ovid’s erotic corpus Kleve 1983;
Dillon 1994; and esp. R. K. Gibson 2007 (building in important ways on Labate 1984). On an exilic
front, see already DeLacy 1947, but esp. Claassen 1999 and 2008 with Kelly 2018. On the Fast. and
Met. (esp. the cosmogony in Met. 1 and Pythagoras’ speech in Met. 15), McKim 1984–5; P. Hardie
1991 and 1995; Myers 1994; Nelis 2009; van Schoor 2011.
2 See esp. Beasley 2012; Ham 2013; Kelly 2016, 2019, and 2020.
3 Boyd, ed. 2002; P. Hardie, ed. 2002.
4 Knox, ed. 2009.
Introduction 3
parts of his corpus (e.g., the erotic ethic inculcated in the male lover in Ars
1 and 2, say, or the suspect loyalty of various friends in his exilic corpus) be
viewed as philosophically meaningful even if such ideas cannot be straight-
forwardly aligned with any one doctrine or school? In contrast to the
fate-driven teleology of the Aeneid, moreover, fate in the Metamorphoses
resembles a “historical prop”6 that struggles to assert itself amidst the narra-
tological, chronological, and scene-shifting twists and turns of Ovid’s met-
amorphic cascade of stories: does this conspicuous rejection of Virgilian
teleology constitute a form of counter-“philosophy” by which Ovid resists
the implication that the Augustan “Golden Age” is the culmination of Roman
historical development?
For present purposes, the flexible potentialities of “philosophy” that are
opened up by such questions help to delimit the definitional parameters for
the Ovidius philosophus featured in this book. In terming him philosophus,
we broadly mean Ovid’s appeal to, and manipulation of, well-known phil-
osophical ideas (Pythagorean, Platonic, Epicurean, Stoic, etc.) that were al-
ready in wide currency in Roman literature; what sets him apart is not the
ideas themselves, but his idiosyncratic application of them. In general terms,
we stress that the Roman adaptation of Greek philosophy from Lucretius and
Cicero onward down to the younger Seneca and beyond is deeply complex
in its shifting modes of reception, trends of interpretation, and styles of ar-
ticulation.7 Furthermore, given that Ovid’s uses of philosophy are manifold,
as well as subject to change from one context to another, we have no wish to
assert a monochromatic (and, in our opinion, unprovable) view of his phil-
osophical allegiances and development over time. In contrast to a schematic
approach of this kind, we prefer to stress an organic approach that assesses
each text on its own terms and according to Ovid’s philosophical needs or
aspirations in the moment.
But how then does Ovidius philosophus differ from other late Republican
and Augustan poets who were no less philosophically engaged? Lucretius
must in many ways constitute a special case as a philosophical pioneer
in Latin, a fundamentalist who renders Epicureanism through poetic
techniques of a deep Empedoclean stamp;8 by comparison, Ovid’s recourse
to philosophy is less obsessive in doctrinal focus, more eclectic in its range
of influences, and more varied at least in the diversity of the applications
9 See Schiesaro 2014 (focusing on the story of Phaethon in Met. 1 and 2) for a powerful case
study—with important ramifications for other parts of the Met.—of Ovid’s engagement in “a strategy
of active confrontation and pointed contrast” (74) with Lucretius.
6 Introduction
(18–19). Moles discerns two main strands in Epistles 1: first, “Socratic non-
commitment and Academic, Panaetian and Aristippean relativism legitima-
tise not just flexibility within philosophies but choice between philosophies”
(177); second, Epicureanism comes to the fore, and there it remains into
Horace’s last decade, “the main thread, not just of his poetry, or even of his
philosophy, but of his life” (179).
Many aspects of Moles’s coverage of Horace usefully contextualize Ovid’s
own philosophical maneuverings: to reapply Moles’s words, “Philosophy,”
both in its broadest sense and in the narrow sense of specific philosophies,
informs Ovid’s own poetry, and the Horatian medley of influences is matched
by a similar Ovidian versatility of philosophical appeal, even if the two may
invoke different strands of doctrinal influence to different extents and effects.
In these respects there is nothing remarkable about Ovid’s turning to phi-
losophy per se; what matters is the idiosyncratic imprint that he imposes on
that larger tendency—an imprint that Moles’s Horace expresses through “the
main thread” of his Epicureanism. But Virgil now provides another impor-
tant but different philosophical perspective before we focus more closely on
the distinctive Ovidian imprint.
In her 2019 essay entitled “Virgil and the Cosmos: Religious and
Philosophical Ideas,” Braund shows how the poet has been “claimed” for
various philosophical schools, the Stoic and Epicurean chief among them;
but—like Moles on Horace—she eschews this reductive approach for a more
flexible view of the poet’s philosophical range and ambitions. She focuses not
on “the narrow questions of Virgil’s sources and consistency” (282–3), but on
his elaboration of three main ideas—issues of physics and cosmology; ethical
issues; eschatology—in contexts where the philosophical component is con-
ditioned by localized concerns. Take the cosmological aspect (289–90):
Virgil’s poems are illuminated when viewed not in terms of systems of phil-
osophical thought but as reflecting and participating in the exemplarity
central to the formation of the Roman man (vir) and Roman manhood
(virtus). This in turn corresponds to the function of Roman education,
which was not to develop freethinkers but to focus the individual’s thoughts
upon his role as an individual in the state. Virgil’s prime allegiance is to Italy
and to Rome.
11 On these points, Feeney 1992, esp. 2– 6, 9; Barchiesi 1997b, esp. 7–11, 43–4, 254–6; Myers
1999: 196–8. For the aggression of Ovid’s competitive tendency, cf. Oliensis 2004: 316 (in connection
with the Ibis) for his wish “not just to destroy Augustus but to take over his place and his power.” In
this and other ways Ovid advances a broader movement within Augustan poetry—a vision now well
articulated by Pandey 2018b in exploring “the poets’ public responses to imperial iconography as a
tool for dissecting, debating, even disrupting imperial power” (5).
12 S. Braund 2019: 297
13 On these techniques, Rabbow 1954; Foucault 1986: 37–68; Hadot 1995; Sellars 2009.
Introduction 9
with philosophical ideas than Virgil, but the sociopolitical context gives a
different ideological meaning to and motivation for his probings. True, after
his banishment to Tomis in 8 ce, a more somber philosophical demeanor
prevails, with notable shades of a Horatian turning-within; but there, too, the
exploratory impulse still remains visible, as several chapters in this volume
seek to show.
Second, and to modify the sociopolitical thrust of this first point: experi-
ence of Ovid’s habit of reapplying received literary tropes with a startling pa-
nache and an eye for extreme effect (hyperbole, bathos, parody, etc.) should
put us on our guard on a philosophical front. In the Metamorphoses, for ex-
ample, epic burlesque competes against itself when, after battle has already
been spectacularly waged at the wedding banquet of Perseus and Andromeda
in Book 5, a still greater battle rages between the Lapiths and Centaurs at
the wedding feast of Pirithous and Hippodamia in Book 12: there, ever
more bizarre weaponry of an impromptu kind—goblets, a table leg, even a
far-flung altar—vastly diversify what now looks like the much more banal,
relatively conventional weaponry (a mere brand from an altar, say, or the
odd mixing bowl) deployed in the Perseus-Andromeda scene.14 Here is
only one, albeit extreme instance of how Ovid characteristically challenges
the received tradition: might we not anticipate a similar appetite for infla-
tionary elaboration or arch provocation in his deployment of philosophical
ideas? Take, for example, Pythagoras’ discourse on the universality of change
in Metamorphoses 15: one of the many conundrums posed by this speech
arises from Pythagoras’ stress on the wonder-inducing effects of inquiry
into nature’s secrets. Lucretius’ Epicurus is a major source of inspiration for
Ovid’s cosmic adventurer; but Pythagoras’ eye for wonder is directly at odds
with the Lucretian rhetoric of reason that seeks systematically to demystify
natural marvels.15 A paradoxical mismatch results between the Lucretian
literary aspiration of his discourse and its philosophical thrust—just one of
the eccentricities that contribute to the episode’s capstone value in Book 15
as a bravura philosophical parody, not paradigm. Again, the Lucretian com-
ponent in Pythagoras’ Empedoclean epos16 underscores the depth and scale
of pre-Ovidian experimentation in philosophical poetics. But Ovid’s flam-
boyance in treating inherited literary topoi might yet lead us to anticipate a
14 On the parodic element in Book 12, Mader 2013 with Musgrove 1998.
15 For this approach, Beagon 2009 with Myers 1994: 133–66.
16 P. Hardie 1995.
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hazel
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Title: Hazel
Language: English
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
HARRY ROSELAND
Robert N. Wood,
Printer
202 East Ninety-ninth Street, New York
TO
E. D. M.
PREFACE
When I was a little girl, my favorite books dealt with children whose
lives were like my own. I smudged with many readings the pages
that told of Susy and Prudy and Dotty in Portland, of their visits to the
country, of their every-day happenings. Their adventures were far
dearer to me than those of foreign lads and lasses and richly clad
little princesses whose ways were not as my ways.
I have thought for some time that the colored children in the United
States might also like to have their intimate books telling of
happenings that were like their own. They must be tired of reading
always of far-away children. So, out of my years of experience
among these soft-eyed, velvet-cheeked small friends, I have written
this story.
I have purposely avoided dialect. Correct English spelling is difficult
enough to young readers without superimposing other forms for the
not too-familiar words. I have, however, tried to give the turn of
expression in the southern speech.
I hope my colored child friends will smudge my pages. And if the
white child stops to read, I trust that she will feel an awakened
sympathy for the dark-faced boys and girls whose world is outside
her own.
M. W. O.
Brooklyn, N. Y.,
September 15, 1913.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Queen of Sheba 7
II. Health and a Day 20
III. Leave Taking 30
IV. The Journey 41
V. Granny 54
VI. Letters 67
VII. That Old Time Religion 74
VIII. Brother and Sister 84
IX. Lost 98
X. Spring 114
XI. Choosing a Birthday 125
XII. Good-Bye 139
XIII. Home 153
HAZEL
CHAPTER I
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
It was raining, and Hazel Tyler had not been allowed to go out all
day. As she sat looking out of her window into the narrow Boston
street she would have made a pretty picture but for the woe-begone
expression on her brown face. Her hair was soft and curly, her eyes
dark and clear, her mouth full, but delicate. Usually it was happy in
expression; but this afternoon it drooped at the corners. Four o’clock!
Two hours more before supper. Oh, this stupid, stupid Saturday!
She got up and walked from the tiny parlor, where she had been
sitting, into a tiny bedroom where a large baby doll lay on the bed
she and her mother shared. Hazel took the doll up, shook it severely,
and put it down again. She was growing to care very little for dolls;
they were not warm and dimpled and you had to do all the talking for
them. She left the tiny bedroom and stepped into a tiny kitchen thus
making the tour of the apartment.
“Mother,” she said to a slender woman who stood at an ironing-
board, “may I go around and play with the McGinnis’s baby? It’s such
a little way.”
Mrs. Tyler looked up. Her face like Hazel’s was gentle and delicate,
but the features were finer and the skin lighter in shade. She was
ironing an elaborate pink tea gown, and she seemed ill-fitted for such
taxing work.
“No, Hazel,” she replied. “I’ve told you that you can’t go out in the
rain while you have a cold. There is no use in teasing.”
Hazel knew this to be true, and for a time was silent, watching her
mother. She ran her slender finger along the tucks of the pink gown.
“What pretty clothes Mrs. Hollingsworth always has,” she said. “I
wish I could have something pretty. I’ve nothing to wear but this blue
serge.”
Hazel’s mother looked at her a second and the child felt abashed.
She knew very well that since her father’s death—her dear, dear
father—her mother had had to support them both, and how hard she
had worked at whatever would bring in money—at sewing,
hairdressing, and even this tiring laundry. She knew, too, that when
the rent was paid, and the grocer’s and butcher’s bills settled, the
little money left went first to her and her wants. Why, only last week
she had had pretty hair ribbons; and her mother’s black dress was
growing shabby. She bent over and kissed the hand that was patting
the pink wrapper into place.
“I’ll go into the parlor and make my picture-puzzle,” she said.
“That’s right, dear,” Mrs. Tyler answered.
The little girl worked for a time at the elaborate puzzle spread out on
the parlor table; but its green trees were perplexing, and she soon
returned to the kitchen to find the pink dress finished and on the top
of a pile of speckless linen in the laundry basket. Her mother stood
with hat and coat on.
“I’m going to run out to make sure that John comes to-night to get
the clothes,” Mrs. Tyler said. “Now, don’t look so woe-begone, dear.
I’ll cook waffles for supper, and we’ll have the maple syrup that Mrs.
Brown brought us from the country.”
Hazel’s face brightened. “May we eat off the pretty china?” she
asked.
“Yes, you may set the table with it when I get back.” And Mrs. Tyler
went out into the narrow hall, down the dark stairs and into the
narrow street.
She could hardly have reached the corner when Hazel heard a
knock at the door, and opened it to a little black girl who at once
stepped gaily into the room.
“Where you been all day, Hazel?” she asked.
She was a jolly little girl of ten, a year younger than Hazel, with
plump arms and legs and a sturdy body. Her crinkly hair was tied
with a bright red ribbon, and she wore a gay bandanna about her
neck. Her black eyes shone with good will.
“How do you do, Charity?” Hazel said, a little hesitatingly.
She liked this new neighbor and had played with her the rare
afternoons that she had been allowed on the street; but she knew
her mother scarcely approved of Charity. But then her mother did not
approve of any of the girls and boys on Hammond Street and one
must play with some one.
“Your mother’s out,” said Charity. “I know, for I saw her go. Where
you been all day, Hazel?”
“Here at home,” Hazel answered. “I’ve got a sore throat, and I’m not
allowed to go out, and there’s nothing to do in this poky place.”
“Let’s play,” said Charity, “you shut your eyes and I’ll hide.”
“Pooh,” Hazel replied contemptuously, “you know, Charity, there isn’t
a single place here big enough for a cat to hide in.”
“Well, let’s, let’s,” Charity looked about for inspiration, and her glance
fell on the doll in the adjoining room, “let’s play house.”
“No, you would just beat the baby. Let’s play a new game, something
brand new that we never played before.”
Charity began jumping about on one foot, and on into the little parlor,
but she had no suggestion to offer. Hazel followed her and as her
eye fell on the family Bible, her face lighted with excitement.
“I know,” she declared, “let’s play a Bible game. Let’s act a Bible
story the way we act history at school.”
Charity stood on her two feet. “George Washington?” she asked.
“No, not George Washington, but like that. A Bible story. We can’t be
Joseph and his Brethren,” Hazel went on musing, “there’re too many
of them. I don’t like Jacob—”
“I’ll be King Solomon,” Charity exclaimed quite suddenly.
She sat in the arm chair and held herself erect. Taking her bandanna
she wreathed it in a turban about her head.
“That’s splendid, Charity,” Hazel said heartily. “That’s your crown and
you’re sitting on your throne. Now who shall I be?”
“You? Why, of course, you’ll be the Queen of Sheba.”
Hazel laughed gleefully. “I’ll be a real queen, won’t I? What’ll I do,
Charity?” Her friend’s knowledge of Bible history was evidently
greater than her own.
“You ask me questions,” Charity explained, “all sorts of questions,
and I answer them.”
“But what do I wear?”
“Let me recollect.” Charity shut her eyes to think the harder. “The
Queen of Sheba she come to Jerusalem, with, with a very great
train. You must wear a train, Hazel.”
“There isn’t a thing with a train here,” Hazel replied mournfully.
Looking into the kitchen her eyes fell upon the laundry basket with
the pink dress on top. “I could borrow Mrs. Hollingsworth’s tea
gown,” she said.
Now Charity might make slips in grammar and slap unoffending
dolls, but the laundry was sacred to her. Once the pile of muslin was
ironed and placed in the basket it was not to be tampered with.
“You daren’t,” she said.
Hazel walked into the other room, took the pink wrapper and slowly
put it on. Her heart beat fast and her fingers trembled, but she
fastened the dress at the throat and held it up about her. Entering the
parlor she went to the chair in which King Solomon sat, and bowed
low, dropping the pink dress so that it trailed upon the floor. Then she
looked up into the king’s dark face.
“Isn’t this a royal great train?” she said softly.
King Solomon nodded. He was saying to himself, “You bet, my
mother needn’t say she’s such a good little girl again!”
The Queen of Sheba bowed once more. “What do I do next,
Charity?”
“You ask me questions.”
“I can’t think of any;” and the queen, like Alice in Through the
Looking Glass, courtesied again to help her think. “What did I have
for dinner?” she said at last.
“Myrrh and mint and jasper and honey and the honeycomb.”
The queen looked up in admiration. “That’s a beautiful answer; how
did you think of all those things? But is jasper something to eat?”
King Solomon did not regard the question. “Ask me something else?”
he demanded.
“What—what—what did I have for breakfast?”
The king stuck out his tongue derisively. “Can’t you think of a single
thing, Hazel Tyler, but food?”
Hazel felt her lack of originality. “Have you had pleasant weather this
past week in Jerusalem?” she asked politely.
“It has rained,” replied King Solomon, “for forty days and nights; and
great was the fall thereof.”
The king’s answers were so much more impressive than the queen’s
questions that Hazel sought for first place.
“Now I shall dance before the king,” she said, and began slowly
advancing and receding before King Solomon’s throne, holding up
the pink dress as she moved. She looked very pretty and graceful as
she made her low courtesies and King Solomon’s eyes gleamed
approbation.
“If you like a me, as I like a you,” he began to sing and the Queen of
Sheba stepped in a little livelier fashion toward the kitchen door.
“’Cause I love you,” he went on, and the little queen danced before
him over the door-sill and into the kitchen where she struck against
the table and fell in a heap upon the floor.
The singing stopped. Charity stooped to where Hazel sat, a
frightened heap. She examined the pink gown. It had a black
smudge on the back.
“Have to be done all over again,” said Charity briefly.
Hazel rose and took the dress off. Her lip quivered.
“I’d best go home,” said Charity. “There ain’t nothing I can do. Oh,
Hazel won’t you catch it!”
“My mother never whips me,” said Hazel sharply.
“She ain’t like mine,” said Charity.
The bandanna was off King Solomon’s head and he crept out of the
door and down the stairs to his home.
The Queen of Sheba sat on the kitchen chair with the soiled dress
on her lap. Like the queen of old, “there was no more spirit in her.”
She remained quite still two, three, five minutes. Then she heard her
mother knock.
She opened the door, the dress in her hand, and showed the spot
without speaking.
“How did it happen?” Mrs. Tyler asked.
“I was playing with Charity. It wasn’t her fault,” hastily, “she told me
not to touch it, but I was the Queen of Sheba and I wanted a train.
Will it have to be done all over, Mother? Charity said it would have to
be done all over.”
“Yes, it will,” said Mrs. Tyler, and turned to the tub where she began
to draw water.
“You must go to bed, Hazel,” she said sternly. “Later I will bring you a
supper of bread and milk.”
As the little girl lay in bed, she could hear her mother rub, rubbing
the dress against the wash-board. Then that sound ceased, and the
door of the refrigerator was opened and shut. She silently ate the
bread and milk brought her. No jolly time together at the table over
the waffles and maple syrup and the pretty flowered plates! She
heard her mother’s tired footsteps moving from ironing-board to
stove and back to ironing-board, and she noted the click of the iron
as it fell upon the metal holder. She could almost count each
movement up and down the waist and the long skirt.