"Budda, Budda," she whispered, "please don' be vexed wid me no more. It's Christmas. I gi you a nice Christmas gift, enty? I wasn' makin sport o you. No. I want you to love me an' po lil Seraphine too. Budda, I missed you too bad. I know I done wrong, but I ain' gwine never do wrong, not no more. Not long as I live, Budda."
"You is a low-down gal, May-e. Low-down as you only can be. If it wasn' fo dis po lil stray baby, I wouldn' never speak to you again, long as I live. Dat's de Gawd's truth." In spite of his contempt which burned her clear through, Mary felt a smile tugging at her lips.
"Now, Budda"
"I mean it." His tone was harsh, and his eyes were blazing. Yet she caught a glimmer of the old kindliness she had known all her life.
"Budda—smile at me one time, just by it's Christmas Day." Budda turned his face away and gazed into the fire that glowed scarlet as her sin. But from that minute on when nobody else could hush Seraphine's crying, Budda could.
