required," the gypsy woman said, looking at the coin in herhand as if, Mrs. Wladek thought, it was less than a penny. Did not thewoman realize that fifty cents was a great deal of money for a poor oldwoman?
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 andexperience into play. Finally she looked at Mrs. Wladek and said: "Avery powerful curse has been put upon you. I can't help you."
"The Church will help me!" Mrs. Wladek screamed. "They have the power toexorcise--"
"Do not speak to me of churches," the gypsy woman shouted.
Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "You, who steal my money, who steal thebread 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 makea difference. Mrs. Wladek's problem was certainly serious enough tointerfere with any man's supper. Father Seador was overweight in anycase; should he miss the entire meal it would not do him any harm. MarieWladek had a problem, and a serious one; let him miss his supper. It washis 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. Wladekgot up from her chair and curtsied toward him, being very careful of herold 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 lookedover at the middle-aged man. "Rudi has a job."
"A job? A job?" Father Seador blinked. "That's fine. That's certainlygood 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 hasmade 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 youabout. It is _why_ he has taken a job. It is _why_ I will be taking ajob."
"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 satdown 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 exorcisethis witch that has put on me a hex."
"Exorcise? Curse?" Father Seador coughed. "I'm sure you must bemistaken, 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 thedetails. 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 tofight 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 aboy forced to grind out his youth among package-wrappers? You seenothing wrong in this?"
"Well, I ... we all have to work."
"Here?" Mrs. Wladek said with astonishment. "Here in America, youbelieve that? It is not so. My own uncle Bedrich has told me years agoit 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 acurse 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, andthey 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, thegypsy 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'tfeel the least bit tired. After all, she had spent the day in helpingpeople, and that was what made life worthwhile.
But it was quitting time. Staying late would give her the reputation ofan eager beaver, and that would make her unpopular. Not that she caredfor popularity for its own sake--certainly not!--but you couldn't doyour best work unless the others in your office were willing to helpyou.
Leaving on time was a simple sacrifice to make for them.
She pulled open the desk drawer and got her beret. Then, as she wasputting it on, she remembered.
In the other drawer were the clay models.
She opened the drawer and pulled them out. She had barely reduced themto 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. Ibought 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 reachedfor her beret.
Harold Meedy called from across the room: "Going home?"
"That's right," she said.
"Can I charter a bus and drop you somewhere?"
"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've really got to get right home."
"Listen," Harold said. He came over to her desk. "I've been trying toget somewhere with you ever since you walked into this office. Now,what's wrong with me? I haven't been able to get to first base. Don'tyou like me?"
"Mr. Meedy," Gloria began, "it's just that ... well, I don't believe ininter-personal relations on that level, not in the office. I'm sorry."
He blinked. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Of course I do," she said.
"But--" He shrugged. "O.K. O.K. I just wanted to know."
The door closed behind him. Gloria felt a little relieved. If mattershad gone on the way they'd threatened, why, she might have had to changeHarold Meedy's mind for him. Not that it would have done him any harm,but ... well, she just didn't like doing that sort of thing for purelypersonal reasons.
She was glad she hadn't had to tamper with him at all.
And now it was over, and she could forget about it. Humming under herbreath, she put her beret on at last, and gave the stack of folders apat to keep them absolutely neat, before she left the office.
She still felt a little sad about leaving on time, when there was somuch work to be done. But tomorrow, she told herself, she would be ableto get back to helping people. Tomorrow--
* * * * *
Tomorrow.
Ten minutes to nine, and Gloria put her beret away, reached for thefirst folder--and froze.
A second later the door opened. Gloria looked up and smiled helpfully."Mrs. Wladek," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This isn'tyour day for--"
"It is not my day," Mrs. Wladek said. She closed the door behind her."This, I know. But I am here. Does this mean anything to you?"
Gloria forced her face to remain expressionless. "Can I help you in anyway?
" she said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"You?" Mrs. Wladek barked. "You have done enough. I am not here to seeyou. But your supervisor, your boss--him, I will see."
"My supervisor?" Gloria looked round. "He isn't here yet."
"He will be here later?"
"Of course he will," Gloria said.
Mrs. Wladek sat down in a chair next to Gloria's desk. "I will wait,"she announced.