Chapter 21 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to weigh a fact the narrator states and then hedges. A paragraph opens, “First the cook told about the will.” The next two sentences take it half back: “It must have been the cook. He thought he did anyway.” Kate hears of it from Ethel and goes to the kitchen, where the cook, Alex, is kneading bread. He was the will’s witness. She asks, “Do you think it was a good thing to tell about being a witness?” He starts, “But I didn’t—” and she presses: “Only three people knew. Do you think I told? Or do you think Miss Faye did?” The narrator says that “by now he was far from sure that he had not told. In a moment he would be sure that he had.” Later Kate tells Faye, “Alex admits he let it out,” and we learn that she “had made sure the rolled paper was still in the box and all the girls had seen it or heard about it.” The student decides who told. It feeds the hinge: the narrator has just described Kate setting “imperceptible springs and pendulums” in motion, and this is the first spring the chapter shows. The card must not settle who told; the chapter never does. It must not say anyone suspects Kate.

One reading

The cook told. The narrator says so plainly before he hedges, and Kate tells Faye that Alex admits it. He was the witness, one of only three who knew, and Kate did not need to start the story. She only needed to take it over once it was loose, and make the cook carry the blame for it.

• First the cook told about the will.
• Alex admits he let it out.

Another reading

Kate told, or set it going. Only three people knew, and Kate is the one who gains when the girls know. The narrator will not stand behind his own first sentence: the cook only “thought he did.” By the end of the section Kate has made sure every girl has seen the will or heard of it. A secret she wanted spread got spread, and someone else believes he spread it.

• It must have been the cook. He thought he did anyway.
• And she had made sure the rolled paper was still in the box and all the girls had seen it or heard about it.

Listen for

• Hears the hedge: “It must have been” and “He thought he did anyway” take back the plain first sentence.
• Notices Kate’s three questions to the cook, and that one of them names herself: “Do you think I told?”
• Notices that the cook ends up “sure” of something no one has shown him.
• Leaves the answer open, as the chapter does, and does not say anyone suspects Kate.

If stuck

• Who does Kate say could have told, and how many people knew?
• What is the cook sure of before Kate talks to him, and what after?
• Why might a narrator who knows everything say only “It must have been”?

A strong answer A strong response names a teller and uses the narrator’s wording. One reader says the cook: the narrator says so first, Kate says Alex admits it, and Kate only had to take over a story already loose. Another says Kate: only three knew, she is the one who gains, the narrator says only that the cook “thought he did,” and by the section’s end every girl has seen or heard of the will. The best answers notice that the chapter is built so the question cannot be closed, and that the cook’s certainty arrives without any proof.

What it asks It asks the student to judge what the narrator leaves out. Dr. Wilde comes home worn out from two deaths. He finds Kate inside his office, though his key would not turn, and she says, “It wasn’t locked.” He blames his memory: “I’m getting old, I guess.” He asks, “Did I leave the door to the dispensary open too?” and she answers, “I guess you must have.” He pours her pills, tells her to let herself out, and goes “wavering back into the surgery.” Then: “Kate glanced after him and then her eyes flicked over the lines of bottles and containers. She closed the dispensary door and looked around the outer office. One book in the case was out of line. She pushed it back until it was shoulder to shoulder with its brothers.” The next time we see her, she takes “five small bottles and a strip of scribbled paper” from her handbag and hides them in an overshoe. The student decides why the narrator gives the book and skips the theft. It feeds the hinge: the rule praised attention to means, and here the means are shown at their smallest. The card must not say where Kate learned which drugs to take or what the paper says, and must not say who moved the book; the chapter does not.

One reading

The book is the method in one gesture. Kate attends to the means so closely that a single book out of line gets put right before she goes. The narrator trusts the reader to add up the rest: her eyes on the bottles, the closed door, and five bottles in her handbag at home. One tidy act tells us more about how she works than the theft would.

• She closed the dispensary door and looked around the outer office.
• In her own room Kate took five small bottles and a strip of scribbled paper from her handbag.

Another reading

The book is a small picture of the whole plan. Kate takes what she needs and leaves everything looking in its place: a book beside its brothers, a daughter beside her mother. The narrator gives the book a family on purpose. Kate keeps up the look of order, and the order is where she hides.

• She pushed it back until it was shoulder to shoulder with its brothers.
• You see, girls, I’m alone in the world and I have taken Kate as my daughter.

Listen for

• Places the book after the bottles and the closed door, and before the handbag at home.
• Hears the family the narrator gives the book, “its brothers,” and may set it beside Faye calling Kate her daughter.
• Notices that the scene ends on order put right, not on anything taken.
• Does not say where Kate learned about the drugs, what the paper says, or who moved the book.

If stuck

• What does Kate look at once Dr. Wilde goes back into the surgery?
• What does she take out of her handbag when she gets home?
• Why might a writer show a small act and leave the big one out?

A strong answer A strong response explains the choice by its effect. One reader says the book is the method in one gesture: a woman who puts one book back has left nothing else out of place, and the reader adds up the theft from the bottles at home. Another says the book is a picture of the whole plan: Kate keeps everything looking in its place, a book among its brothers and a daughter beside her mother, and the order is her hiding place. The best answers notice that the narrator chose a tidy act, not a guilty one, to stand for the theft.

What it asks It asks the student to hear what Kate’s answer says and what it leaves out. Since “her illness and her evil dreams” Faye has been “quiet and depressed,” and “Kate knew she was being watched, but there was no help for that.” One afternoon Faye asks Kate to go to Europe with her. Kate is delighted: “Let’s go soon.” Then “Faye’s eyes lost their suspicion and her face relaxed.” She asks one more thing: “You—you don’t turn any tricks any more, do you?” Kate answers, “Why should I? You take such good care of me.” Faye “slowly gathered up the cards, and tapped them square, and dropped them in the table drawer,” and Kate pulls up a chair to ask her advice about canning. The student decides whether Kate answered. It feeds the hinge: the narrator credits Kate with “letting your opponent do the heavy work,” and here Faye must supply the answer herself. The card must not say whether Kate still turns tricks; the chapter does not. It must not say Faye suspects a plan against her life, must not tell what the evil dreams were, and must not make Faye a joke for trusting.

One reading

Yes, and the answer is no. Kate says she has no reason to work, because Faye gives her everything. That is a plain no in kind words. It also tells Faye what she most wants to hear: Kate needs no one but her. Faye hears it as a no. She puts the cards away and the matter is closed.

• Why should I? You take such good care of me.
• Faye slowly gathered up the cards, and tapped them square, and dropped them in the table drawer.

Another reading

No. Kate never says no. She hands the question back and lets Faye fill in the answer, just as she asked the cook “Do you think I told?” until he was sure he had. Answering with a question is her habit, and it costs her no lie. Faye does the work of believing, the “heavy work” the narrator says Kate leaves to others.

• You don’t think you told? Only three people knew. Do you think I told? Or do you think Miss Faye did?
• letting your opponent do the heavy work toward his own defeat

Listen for

• Hears Faye’s stammer, “You—you,” and notices that Kate never says “no”: her answer is itself a question.
• Sets the answer beside Kate’s questions to the cook and to the girls: “Do you think I told?” and “Why don’t you ask Faye?”
• Notices what follows: Faye puts the cards away, and Kate moves straight on to asking her advice.
• Takes Faye seriously, and does not settle whether Kate still turns tricks.

If stuck

• What exactly does Faye ask, and what words does Kate use back?
• What word would a plain answer need that Kate’s answer leaves out?
• What does Faye do with her cards right after?

A strong answer A strong response says whether Kate answered and backs it with her words. One reader hears a no wrapped in thanks: Kate has no need to work because Faye provides, and Faye, satisfied, puts her cards away. Another hears no answer at all: Kate hands the question back and lets Faye supply the no, the way the cook supplied his own guilt. The best answers notice that either way Faye does the work of answering, and that the chapter never tells us the truth of it.

What it asks It asks the student to notice a change in the pace of the telling. The bright months in the third section have no dates; they are told in scenes, with presents, biscuits and music. The last section opens, “On Saturday the fourteenth of October the first wild ducks went over Salinas.” That evening, before supper, Kate puts nux vomica in Faye’s tonic. The next night comes the string-bean salad. On Tuesday Dr. Wilde says the women were lucky and leaves morphine pills, and the narrator writes one flat line: “That was October 17.” Then four months go by in one paragraph: “Faye was never really well again. She would make a little gain and then go to pieces. She had a bad time on December 3, and it took even longer for her to gain her strength. February 12 the bleeding became violent and the strain seemed to have weakened Faye’s heart.” After that the telling slows again for the last night. The student decides why the telling hurries here, when the narrator has told us “Kate never hurried.” It feeds the hinge: the rule warned against hurry, and the narrator’s speed is not Kate’s. Name the doses once and do not dwell on Faye’s illness; the question is about the telling. The card must not say anyone suspects Kate.

One reading

To make the waiting felt by its length. The rule said hurry ruins delicate work. Four months lie between the string beans and the last dose, and the bare dates let a reader count them. The narrator goes fast so we see how long Kate was willing to go slow.

• That was October 17.
• February 12 the bleeding became violent and the strain seemed to have weakened Faye’s heart.

Another reading

Because the plan now runs by itself. In the second passage of copywork Kate sets her “springs and pendulums” moving and leaves them alone. The chapter shows no dose between the beans and the last night; the illness tells its own story, and a doctor reads it as botulism. The dates read like a doctor’s chart: the view from outside, which is the view Kate wants the house to have.

• left them to pick up their own momenta
• Faye was never really well again.

Listen for

• Notices that the third section has no dates and the fourth is full of them.
• Hears the flat sentence “That was October 17.” after the night of the beans.
• Notices that the telling slows again for the last night: the warm milk, the braided hair, the weeds.
• Names the poisoning plainly once without lingering on Faye’s pain, and does not say anyone suspects Kate.

If stuck

• How much space does the narrator give the presents and the music, and how much to October through February?
• What does Kate do in those months that the chapter shows us?
• What kind of writing lists dates like this, and what does it leave out?

A strong answer A strong response explains what the speed does. One reader says it makes the patience felt: after the rule against hurry, four months pass in a few lines, and the gaps between the dates are Kate’s waiting. Another says the plan is running by itself, so the narrator gives only what anyone could see, an illness on a calendar, which is the story Kate wants seen. The best answers notice that the narrator’s speed is not Kate’s, and that the telling slows again for the last night.

What it asks It asks the student to hear the chapter’s first words come back at its end. The rule says that once a person “had accepted the end as desirable, he should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means.” The narrator says Kate “thought to the end very quickly and then put it out of her mind.” After the last dose and the rain, the chapter does not show Faye’s death. It says: “At first they had to tie Kate down to keep her from hurting herself. From violence she went into a gloomy stupor. It was a long time before she regained her health. And she forgot completely about the will. It was Trixie who finally remembered.” Earlier, each girl “took the will in her own hands and inspected it,” and Kate made sure they all had seen it or heard of it. Through the winter Kate was “haggard,” her body “shrunk to bones,” and the girls feared Faye’s death “would kill that girl.” The student decides whether Kate forgot. It feeds the hinge: the rule’s own word comes back at the end, and the last written question asks whether that rule is good advice. The card must not say whether Kate’s collapse was wholly real or wholly acted; the chapter reports only what the house saw. It must not say what Kate does with Faye’s money or house.

One reading

No. The echo is the narrator’s dry joke. Forgetting the end is what the method demanded, and this is what it looks like at the finish. Kate does not have to remember the will, because she made sure the girls would. Trixie does the last piece of the work for her.

• And she forgot completely about the will. It was Trixie who finally remembered.
• And each girl took the will in her own hands and inspected it.

Another reading

Yes, or something close. The narrator says it as plainly as anything else in the chapter. Months of watching and waiting have worn her “to bones,” and when it ends she has to be tied down. Whatever broke, the will was not on her mind. A person can carry out a plan perfectly and still be wrecked by it.

• At first they had to tie Kate down to keep her from hurting herself.
• It was a long time before she regained her health.

Listen for

• Hears the echo between the rule’s “forget it completely” and the last paragraph’s “forgot completely.”
• Connects Trixie’s remembering to the girls who held the will in the first section.
• Weighs the haggard winter and the tied-down collapse without deciding they are wholly real or wholly acted.
• Says nothing about what Kate does with the money or the house.

If stuck

• What does the rule say to do once you have accepted the end?
• What happens to Kate after the rain, and who remembers the will?
• Can a person mean to forget something and still truly forget it?

A strong answer A strong response takes a position on Kate’s forgetting and hears the echo. One reader says she did not forget: the narrator is joking with his own rule, and the girls who held the will remember it for her. Another says the forgetting is real, or near it: the winter wore her to bones and she had to be tied down, so whatever broke, the will was not in her mind. The best answers keep the collapse open, as the chapter does, and notice that either way the method reached its end without Kate saying a word.

What it asks It asks the student to judge the man the plan works on, without making him a fool. The narrator calls him “a good man and an honest man,” humble about his trade: “all he was sure of was that sulphur would cure the itch.” He is the town’s “doctor, priest, psychiatrist,” and “The mystery of death was on him.” But “Many years of overwork and interrupted sleep had made him a little vague and preoccupied.” He has been up all night with a dying woman; he blames his own memory for the lock and leaves his dispensary open. When Kate tells him Faye was “real sick a while ago,” he says, “We just call it stomach trouble.” On the Sunday he finds two women sick and asks, “Are these string beans home canned?” No one else ate them. He orders every jar broken and unpacks his stomach pump. Both women live through it, and he calls it botulism. In February he tells Kate, “Not many people have such loyalty.” The student writes a thesis on whether he was fooled because of his weaknesses or his strengths, meets the strongest objection, and revises. It feeds the hinge: a method that works on an honest man says something about the method. The card must not say he suspects Kate, must not mock him, and must not linger on his crude saying about whores, which is a tired man’s, not the narrator’s.

One reading

His weaknesses. He is tired and vague, he leaves his office and his dispensary open, and he blames his own age for the lock. He has a ready name for Faye’s trouble before he has looked, and a crude saying in place of a question. A sharper, better-rested man might have wondered how his office came to be open.

• Many years of overwork and interrupted sleep had made him a little vague and preoccupied.
• We just call it stomach trouble.

Another reading

His strengths. He follows the evidence he has, and it is good evidence: two women sick, home-canned beans, no one else who ate them. He acts at once, and both women live. He is humble enough to doubt himself, and kind enough to read a haggard face as love. Kate does not get past his weaknesses; she gives his honesty true facts to work with.

• Are these string beans home canned?
• Not many people have such loyalty.

Listen for

• Uses the narrator’s whole portrait: honest, humble, never easy with death, and also tired and preoccupied.
• Notices that Kate falls sick first, so the sickness the doctor sees is real.
• Hears “Not many people have such loyalty” beside Kate’s own earlier word: “it wouldn’t be loyal of me.”
• Revises rather than restates: a good revision may hold that the plan needs both his tiredness and his honesty.

If stuck

• What does Dr. Wilde ask when he sees the trays?
• What does he blame for the lock and the open dispensary?
• Is it a fault to believe what you can see?

A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says his weaknesses: tired and vague, he leaves the dispensary open, blames his own memory, and names Faye’s trouble before he looks. The strongest objection is the night of the beans, where he does everything right with the evidence in front of him and both women live; the evidence was simply made for him. A good revision might hold that his tiredness let Kate in and his honesty finished the work, and weigh which of the two the plan needed more.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh the chapter’s middle, the part a hurried reader skips, through one man. Right after the overshoe, “During the following months a gradual change came over Faye’s house.” Kate praises Ethel’s room and gives her perfume, and Alex “found that he had a magic hand with biscuits.” Cotton Eye, the blind piano player, “learned that nobody hated him.” He plays Kate something he remembers, and she says, “That’s lovely.” He tells her how he lost his sight, “and he had never told anyone else.” That Saturday night he takes “the chain off the piano strings” and plays the piece he has been practicing, “a piece by Beethoven, Cotton Eye thought.” Soon Georgia is taking piano lessons from him “and her nails were clean,” and the house is called the best in the county. The student writes a thesis on whether Cotton Eye’s music counts for less because of what Kate was hiding, meets the strongest objection, and revises. It feeds the hinge: the same patience that does the poisoning makes these months, and the last written question asks whether the method is good advice. The card must not say the chapter tells us why Kate was kind, or whether she was really listening to his story; it does not. It must not say anyone suspects her.

One reading

No. The music is his. Cotton Eye remembered it, practiced it in the mornings, and chose the night to play it. What he learned was true of the house: nobody hated him. Kate gave a push, but what she hid cannot reach back and take the music away.

• Cotton Eye learned that nobody hated him.
• That Saturday night he took the chain off the piano strings and played something he had been remembering and practicing in the morning

Another reading

Yes. He gave his oldest secret to the one person in the house with five bottles hidden in her closet. His best night helped make Faye’s the best house in the county, and all that trust works for Kate, whatever she meant by it. Music someone else can use like that is not quite his own.

• He told her how he had lost his sight, and he had never told anyone else.
• One night there were presents for everyone because Faye’s was the best house, the cleanest, and nicest in the whole county

Listen for

• Uses what the chapter gives Cotton Eye: nobody hated him, the story he never told anyone else, the chain off the strings.
• Notices that the bright months come right after the overshoe and right before the tonic.
• Notices whom Cotton Eye trusts with his story, and that the chapter never says whether Kate was listening.
• Revises rather than restates, and does not claim the chapter says why Kate was kind.

If stuck

• What does Cotton Eye learn in these months, and what does he tell Kate?
• Where are the five small bottles while he plays?
• Can something good be real and still be used for a bad end?

A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says the music stands: Cotton Eye remembered it, practiced it and chose to play it, and what Kate hid cannot take it back. The strongest objection is where his trust went: he told his oldest secret to the woman with five bottles in her closet, and his best night helped build the house’s trust in her. A good revision might grant that the music is real while holding that he did not choose what it became part of, and weigh why the narrator gives Cotton Eye so much room.

What it asks It asks the chapter’s whole question. The chapter opens with a rule: “If one were properly to perform a difficult and subtle act, he should first inspect the end to be achieved and then, once he had accepted the end as desirable, he should forget it completely and concentrate solely on the means.” It promises freedom from “anxiety or hurry or fear” and says, “Very few people learn this.” Then: “What made Kate so effective was the fact that she had either learned it or had been born with the knowledge.” The rest of the chapter is the method at work: the cook brought to believe he told, the dispensary, the bright months of presents and music, the canning, the bitter tonic, the crotón oil on the string beans and Kate stricken first, the long winter, the last dose, and the bottles crushed in the wet weeds as the rain begins. Dr. Wilde, who “never learned to take death easily,” tells her, “Not many people have such loyalty.” The student writes a thesis on whether the narrator’s rule is good advice, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say anyone suspects Kate, what she does with Faye’s money or house, whether her collapse was wholly real or wholly acted, or where she learned about the drugs.

One reading

It is good advice, and the chapter proves it works. The rule is a method, not a goal. It tells you to judge the end first, “once he had accepted the end as desirable,” and Kate’s fault lies in that judgment, not in the method. The same patience that poisons Faye makes Cotton Eye’s music and Alex’s biscuits. A craftsman or a nurse could use it just as well. The fault is in the end Kate chose.

• once he had accepted the end as desirable
• What made Kate so effective was the fact that she had either learned it or had been born with the knowledge.

Another reading

It is dangerous advice, and the chapter shows why. The rule asks you to forget the end, and an end you have forgotten is an end you no longer question. It promises freedom from fear, and fear is what might stop a person. Dr. Wilde, who never takes death easily, is the kind of person the method leaves behind. The chapter shows the rule working best in the hands of a murderer.

• By this method he would not be moved to false action by anxiety or hurry or fear.
• He never learned to take death easily.

Listen for

• Quotes the rule exactly and notices its condition: “once he had accepted the end as desirable.”
• Uses the bright months as well as the poisoning, so the case is not only the crime.
• Weighs what the method frees a person from, “anxiety or hurry or fear,” and asks whether those feelings ever do good work.
• Revises rather than restates, and claims nothing about the money, the house, or whether Kate’s collapse was real.

If stuck

• What does the rule tell a person to do with the end once they have accepted it?
• Where in the chapter does Kate’s patience make something good, and where does it make something terrible?
• Is a method good or bad in itself, or only in the hands that use it?

A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says the rule is good advice: it is only a method, it requires the end to be judged first, and the same patience made the house’s best months. The strongest objection is that the rule asks you to forget the end and frees you from fear, which are the very things that might have stopped Kate; Dr. Wilde, uneasy before death, stands for what the method removes. A good revision might hold that the rule is sound for a good end and ruinous for a bad one, and weigh whether a rule that cannot tell the difference is good advice.