It was hot and I was tired. I didn't feel like stopping, but I had promised Mrs. Benderboo that I would swing by. Elizabeth, not yet two, was asleep in her carseat. That would give me a good reason not to stay long. I swung my car into the driveway, crunching across the dusty gravel to park in front of the loafing shed. Leaving the doors open so Elizabeth would not cook, I headed for the house.

     "Hello," I called, pushing the door a little further open, "anyone home?"

     "Oh, well hello," Mrs. Benderboo herself met me at the door. "Judy's not here so if you need dried flowers you're out of luck. I can show you what she has, but I don't know how much they are," she added apologetically. She was always so soft spoken and gracious. She was probably in her sixties, plump and with white hair. I felt guilty for not having stopped sooner. Judy, her daughter, had a little shop behind the house.

     "No, that's OK," I smiled, "I just stopped for a minute to see how you all were doing. I haven't spoken to you for several weeks and Mr. Benderboo was sick the last time I did."

     "That was so sweet of you," she smiled back, genuinely pleased. "He's fine now. In fact, everyone seems to finally be healthy."

     "Has Judy thought any more about home schooling?" I asked. "I brought some book lists from the store in Portland if you think she would like them."

     "No, dear, she's decided to keep him at the Adventist school in Yoder but thank you so much for thinking of us. Robby is doing nicely there. We just don't see any way we can afford to send him on to a private high school, though. We just need to keep praying about it," she squeezed my hand to include me in the circle of prayer.

     "It is expensive," I agreed. "We couldn't afford private schools for our two older girls. We're still muddling along, though, and they are actually doing well. They're both moral, honest, hard working and dependable. It would be nice if we always got along well, but I guess in spite of everything, they're pretty normal teenagers." Mrs. Benderboo chuckled knowingly and nodded her agreement.

     "Do you have any fresh flowers, dear?" she asked.

     "No, I wish we did but all we ever get around to planting is vegetables, herbs and melons. I keep thinking one day I'll quit being so lazy and get some flowers in the ground but they take a lot of time."

     "Oh, you're not lazy . . . just busy," she patted my arm. "Come on out to the garden and let me get you a big boquet of dahlias. They are beautiful right now. I only have short stemmed ones, but they're nice for in the house. Do you have time to stay for a glass of iced tea?"

     "No, really, I can't," I told her, "Elizabeth's asleep in the car and she'll cook if I stay more than a couple of minutes."

     "Well, it won't take but a moment to cut the flowers," she disappeared into the house and was back out just as quickly carrying a pair of flower shears. "Now, come along, and pick out your favorite colors." She was such a sweetheart she was hard to refuse. My older girls considered her a bit odd and I suppose she was eccentric, but she was always genteel and very nice. We had been "almost" neighbors out here in the country for nine years, living only about a mile and a half apart.

     Her garden was behind the loafing shed and she was right: the flowers were exquisite. We headed back to the car still chatting and I put the armfull of flowers on the back seat. Elizabeth was hot, but not cooked, and was still asleep. As I started to say goodby, I heard a tractor motor rev up and quit without starting. Mrs. Benderboo's face contorted in a strange way.

     "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

     "There's no one out there," she said.

     "Where?" I asked, looking around as the tractor reved again.

     "Out at the tractor!" She had turned white and it dawned upon me as I heard the tractor once again that we had just passed it at the back of the shed and she was right: there had been no one there. I turned and started in the direction of the sound with Mrs. Benderboo right behind me.

     As I rounded the back of the shed, the tractor once again coughed into half-life. "Ur...ur...ur...ur...ur......CLANK!" it said as the front scoop lifted about three feet into the air but clanked back to the ground when the engine did not start.

     "Ur...ur...ur...ur...ur......THUD!" it ground out and the PTO unit in the back raised about three feet before thudding to the ground. No one was on the tractor. I felt the hair standing up on the back of my neck, but headed to the tractor. There had to be an explanation.

     "Ur...ur...ur...ur...ur......CLANK!" I jumped straight up when it began again with me standing only inches from it. Suddenly from behind me Mrs. Benderboo's voice boomed out more forcefully than I had ever heard it.

     "I REBUKE YOU IN THE NAME OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST!!" she bellowed at the tractor in no uncertain terms, pointing to the offending machine.

     "Ur...ur...ur...ur...ur......THUD!" it said.

     "COME OUT, DEMON, I COMMAND YOU IN THE NAME OF JESUS!!!" Mrs. Benderboo's hair appeared to be standing on end, her eyes round and wide, her finger jabbing at the unseen demon with each word she uttered. She looked for all the world like an exorcist and I wasn't sure which was the more frightening: the possessed tractor or the transformed Mrs. Benderboo who seemed to be emitting some sort of force field.

     My momentary trance was interrupted by the screen door slamming shut at the house. Mrs. Benderboo's shout had appearantly awakened Mr. Benderboo from his nap. He came running outside barefoot, still fastening one overall strap and threw open the hood of the tractor without saying a word. The answer was too obvious: the battery had shorted out in the sun and was frying the entire electrical system of the small tractor. Mr. Benderboo banished the demons by pulling the battery cables. WHUMP! Both the bucket and the PTO unit simultaneously fell to the ground where they belonged.

     Mrs. Benderboo stood like a statue, seemingly rooted to the ground, her finger still pointing. I slipped unobtrusively to my car still stunned by her performance and drove home, lost in thought. Tractors, in my experience, are never self-starting; most required an act of God just to get them going! I had forgotten to thank her for the flowers, but I doubt that she noticed.