To Make My Bread by Grace Lumpkin Page A

out of the way. But they were too shy to speak, and all of them owed money at Swain’s. They knew that Sally was really good-natured. Yet everyone felt like saying “Why are you here?”
    â€œPin Sally further up on that side,” Sally Swain called to Ora. “Or she’ll trip sure as gun’s iron.”
    â€œHere, Eve,” she called to Eve McDonald, forcing her to leave her mother’s fingers. “That’ll never do. You look like you was sent for and couldn’t come.” And she took the whole robe off, leaving Eve naked except for some flimsy drawers. Eve hid her face in her hands. She might have said the coarsest words to Sally Swain if she had the courage. She knew them. And she was not afraid of being naked. Only Sally Swain’s pudgy hands tearing the robe off seemed to violate her, and she wanted to hide herself from the others.
    When Emma and Ora came out to take their places on the bank everyone had settled down except a few men who were still talking in a little group on the road. As soon as they saw the preacher coming down from his dressing place in the white baptizing robe, they too walked slowly to the bank and before the preacher reached the creek had found themselves seats in the grass.
    Preacher Warren walked sedately through his flock, stood a moment on the bank, then picked his way carefully over the rocky beach. He entered the water up to his knees. Everyone was still. There was not a breeze. Nothing moved except the water that flowed over the rocks and tugged at the ends of the preacher’s robe. He was forced to stand with his feet wide apart, for the current was not weak and there were slippery rocks on the bottom.
    Facing the flock he gave out a hymn and the people sang after him line by line.

    The beginning of the song was a signal. The girls came out from the curtained place and walked slowly in single file toward the preacher. And down the road came the boys with Basil leading. As the song ended they were standing on the beach facing the preacher. The five girls stood in their cream robes with hair combed out down their backs. The young men had new jeans and white shirts—all bought at Swain’s at a special price.
    The preacher spoke some words to them. Three words, he said, they must make the ideal of their lives. These words were temperance, soberness, and chastity. The girls must be temperate in speech. They must not be coarse in language or in actions, and must not backbite their neighbors. The men must not look on wine, for “the drunken and glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.” These words, he said, came straight from the Good Book.
    Drink had ruined men, and laziness had overcome the women of that country. So that they went about in poverty and sometimes even in rags. On earth, he said, they must prepare for their heavenly home. And in the heavenly home all was pure and fair and refined. So all must become pure and fair on earth in preparation. They must work and save and live better. If they did this the Lord would bless them and welcome them into his everlasting home. Amen.
    The preacher beckoned to Sally McClure who was first in the line. She went forward, feeling the way with her toes for she had walked the creek barefoot before and knew how treacherous the rocks could be. It would be a disastrous thing, remembered for years by the whole community, if she slipped and fell.
    Leading Sally by the hand, the preacher backed out into the water until he was up to his waist. Sally shivered as the cold water struck her body. And she was shivering partly from excitement already, for she knew the eyes of the congregation were on her. At a certain spot, when the water was just above Sally’s waist the preacher turned her toward the congregation. He put one hand behind her head, the other on her forehead, and saying the mystic words, dipped her until she was completely covered with water. She