"No, I'm afraid she's going to give all of Cousin Edward's money to the church," his father said breaking a slice of bread into half with his old slow dancing fingers as he jutted out his neck.

"But Father, everyone knows that religion has failed with all its blatant hypocrisy just as that infamous politician who said when one is pointing an accusatory finger at another - three are pointing back at the accuser. We can not even attend their church on The Row!"

Byrom studied his father's gestures; shuddering at their severity; knowing the anger in them for the feeling.

Byrom's father thought as he chewed a morsel of food evenly inside a closed mouth - with his linen napkin at the ready; being held tightly with three fingers. He gave Byrom another sharp look afraid the boy was about to spill his water. He continued to think if only Cousin Agatha would give him some of her money - it would have indeed promised a rosy future canceling out at least part of the debt to his father that could never be erased for the knowing of it.

"Cousin Edward is dead and she is just shuttered up inside their mansion waiting to die and leave all her money to God," Byrom's grandmother said pressing her hunched forward shoulders with twisted fingers adding: " I sometimes wonder if Cousin Agatha's courtesy-"

"An insult hiding her rage?" Byom's father said pointing at Byrom's fallen napkin resting on the floor. He continued: "I say it's rather silly and unfair of her with so many people on this earth in need of money. Certainly some of her dearest relatives can use some. Between you and I - I think she was indeed very fortunate to have been taken by Cousin Edward - a gentleman of his station!" Byrom's father's fingers on his knife and fork moved like jointed arachnids.

Byrom intently watched all the moving fingers from the rim of his glass. He had not touched his soup and now he was dreading the second course before him of lamb, mashed potatoes and vegetables; afraid he would not rotate properly.

"I suppose she did put on airs not to antagonize Cousin Edward since he refused to allow riff-raff into his beautiful home," Byrom's grandmother said leaning forward slightly as she squeezed her shoulders tightly with all of her ten fingers.

"It's not fair mother. It's like those damn socialists saying our Bible was written by a bunch of unfulfilled writers fashioning tall tales on an unsuspecting ignorant people. I think it's not fair at all."

"Percy, your language," his mother said putting three crooked fingers to her lips.

Byrom thought his father was saying "fear" for every time he said the word fair his father's finger was pushing the word downward vehemently. Byrom put his face into the napkin not yet lifting his four-fingered fork.

"You see Byrom, I have noticed your deception throughout supper," his father said to the seven year old boy giving him his most dazzling look of malice which did get his nine year old son Stephen to give off a nervous giggle of anticipation.

Byrom's father stood up as if being shot as his fingers grasped Byrom's arm tightly; attempting to bore through it and pulled him toward his father's study where Byrom would receive his just dessert for making a mockery of an eating.

The father lit the long wooden match as he held Byrom's trembling hand to turn it over palm down able to greet the flame that was about to reach for it and soon, before Byrom could count to five on his fingers, he was falling to the floor with a hand full of sleeping fingers .... END

Jerry Vilhotti