were no friends to
feed you dinners or to allow you room in a good house. No. There was
only the case worker with her reports that took the last bit of privacy
away from an old woman, and left her with barely enough money to remain
alive.

"Get a job," they said. "Tell your son to get a job. He is young and
strong and healthy."

Certainly! But the United States is not a place in which to work. The
United States will give you money. This fact she had from her uncle
Bedrich, who had come to the new country years before, and who had
written many letters back to his family before his death in an accident.

Should she, then, work? Should her own son, her own Rudi, be forced to
work out his time of youth? Surely a little privacy was a small enough
thing to surrender for freedom and ease?

But that they should ask for you to surrender it ... _Cossacks!_

Mrs. Wladek stood up carefully--her old bones creaked, and she could
feel them creaking. She looked around the tiny living room, covered with
dust. One should have the money to hire a maid. But the case workers had
never understood that. Young things, of course they knew nothing of the
troubles facing an old woman.

An old woman needed a maid.

She laughed briefly to herself at the idea, and realized at the same
time that she had been hiding her own thoughts from herself.

Today was her appointment day, and the new one would be there, blond and
young and smiling at her with the innocent face. There was something
wrong with the new one; she could see that. In the old country there
were stories--

_Are you, Marie Wladek, afraid of a young woman? Does your age count for
nothing? Does your experience and knowledge count for nothing?_

And yet, she had to admit to herself that she was afraid, and that she
was afraid of giving a name to her fear. Only a fool could mock at the
stories told in the old country, and Mrs. Wladek knew of such a fool; he
had died with mockery on his lips, but all had known what had killed
him.

_Can you not battle a young woman, and win, Marie Wladek?_

And yet the young woman had something strange about her, and Mrs. Wladek
remembered the old stories, and thought of witchcraft.

Who could fight witchcraft?

Even when the witch was a young girl without experience, and with an
innocent face and blond hair--

Mrs. Wladek looked at the mantel clock she had brought with her across
the ocean. It told perfect time; it was as good as everything