Indirectly, it was Mr. White who provided a solution. Phyllis had invited him to dinner one night in late August. Afterwards they went out to the back porch, and he lit a panatella. The aroma of it blended with the smell of wild honeysuckle from the woods. He began a discussion on ancient rites of the church. One that he mentioned pricked Phyllis into complete awareness.
She leaned forward. “Mr. White, would it be possible for such a rite to be performed now... in the present day?”
Ben spoke up, “Phyllis, I don’t think...”
Mr. White removed his cigar. “There’s nothing the matter with a question like that at all. In fact, exorcism has always fascinated me. The last case I remember reading about occurred... let me see...”
Phyllis interrupted, “But could it be practiced now? Could you... could any clergyman perform it?”
His eyes behind the silver-rimmed glasses grew very thoughtful. “A great deal of evidence must be presented to prove that such an act should be performed. It is a very serious step. There are certain dangers involved.”
She said clearly, “But exorcism is possible.”
“In very rare instances, yes.”
It could have been the very stillness that made Phyllis certain that Letty had heard and understood.
After Ben had left the following morning, Kate lingered at the table, slowly eating the last crumbs of a blueberry muffin. With her eyes still on the plate, she said to her mother, “What’s exorcism?”
Phyllis’s instant reaction was, “How did you happen to ask that?”
The child lifted her face. She went on in the same carefully controlled tone of voice, “If you exorcise somebody, does it hurt?”
Her mother stooped and held her close. “Of course not, darling. It’s just a ceremony, a very serious one that has to do with driving away... something harmful. Who told you...”
Kate interrupted, looking directly into her eyes, “And they’d never come back? The person you make go away?”
Phyllis nodded. “We hope so.”
Kate was silent a moment and then she said matter-of-factly, “But you don’t have to worry about Letty any more. She’s already gone away.”
Without further explanation, Kate reached for another muffin and went into the living room to watch the nine o’clock cartoon show. Dumbfounded, Phyllis arose from beside the chair, and crossed the room to the doorway. For a time she stood there, watching Kate’s profile. But the child was absorbed in the program, nothing else.
A few days before school began, Mrs. Warren dropped by with a little girl. She called into the kitchen, “Anybody home? I brought somebody for you to meet.” She put an arm around both Kate and the other child. “This here’s Judy Davis. She’s the daughter of my new dairyman. I been telling her all about you, and how you’ll be taking the school bus together.”
The two children sized each other up, and then Kate said, “Want me to show you some of my dolls?”
That evening as Ben was helping her with the dishes, Phyllis glanced through the window to the grape arbor where Kate and her new friend were engrossed in coloring books. She handed Ben a plate. “Kate’s room is a shambles, but I couldn’t care less. They’ve had such a marvelous time all afternoon.”
Judy put down a crayon and blew a wisp of blonde hair away from her eyes. “Wasn’t this a good idea? I wish we’d thought of it sooner.”
Kate agreed, “Mm-mmm.”
The other child deliberated over a picture. Then she said, “I think I’ll color her breeches green, dark green.”
Kate popped her bubble gum in disgust. “Listen, if I can remember to call you Judy, you’d just better learn to say
Clay Felton, twenty, American student tourist, clad in leather sandals, khaki shorts, and a dusty, sweat-stained brown sport shirt, walked the narrow Oude Zijds Voorburgwal of Amsterdam in discouragement. He had hoped to find in the Zeedjik district a cheap pension for the night, but the tourist season was in full swing in Amsterdam, and anything he could afford — certainly no more than eight guilders, about two dollars and a quarter — was filled. For nearly three months, Clay had knocked around Europe on a very inadequate budget, traveling in third class coaches, cycling, staying in youth hostels, sometimes sleeping in the haystack of an agreeable farmer. Still, his money had not stretched quite far enough. He had less than ten dollars in his pocket, with three and a half days before his ship,
