When any creature got sick or unfortunate she seemed to take it right into her heart . So you may say Lige Baxter 's failure was a success after all . '' X . THE SON OF HIS MOTHER Thyra Carewe was waiting for Chester to come home . She sat by the west window of the kitchen , looking out into the gathering of the shadows with the expectant immovability that characterized her . She never twitched or fidgeted . Into whatever she did she put the whole force of her nature . If it was sitting still , she sat still . `` A stone image would be twitchedly beside Thyra , '' said Mrs. Cynthia White , her neighbor across the lane . `` It gets on my nerves , the way she sits at that window sometimes , with no more motion than a statue and her great eyes burning down the lane . When I read the commandment , ` Thou shalt have no other gods before me , ' I declare I always think of Thyra . She worships that son of hers far ahead of her Creator . She 'll be punished for it yet . '' Mrs. White was watching Thyra now , knitting furiously , as she watched , in order to lose no time . Thyra 's hands were folded idly in her lap . She had not moved a muscle since she sat down . Mrs. White complained it gave her the weeps . `` It does n't seem natural to see a woman sit so still , '' she said . `` Sometimes the thought comes to me , ` what if she 's had a stroke , like her old Uncle Horatio , and is sitting there stone dead ! ' '' The evening was cold and autumnal .
There was a fiery red spot out XXXXX sea , where the sun had set , and , above it , over a chill , clear , saffron sky , were reefs of purple-black clouds .
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