“Yes, sir.” He was still thinking about what the Negro had said, and continued to think about it, as the car nosed toward town on quiet wheels, as the Negro sat beside him deep in thought staring ahead over the chauffeur’s shoulder and far down the road…If Tucker lost something but didn’t know he had it, he couldn’t know he lost it. That’s silly. You got to know you got something to know you lost it, unless, when you lost it, you go to look for it and find it ain’t where you left it, but then if you left it somewhere you must-a knowed that you had it, so that ain’t the same thing. Maybe it’s like if somebody give you something at night when you’re sleeping, but before you find it in the morning, somebody like Walter comes in and sneaks it out, and plays with it in the woods and leaves it there so you won’t never find it, and then next day the person what left it for you comes in and says, “Harold, did you find what I left for you?” And you says, “No.” And he says, “Well, I left it right in plain sight on the dresser so how come you didn’t find it this morning?” And you says, “I don’t know.” And then you think on it and says, “Walter, he must-a took it before I woke up. I’ll go beat the tar out-a him.” And Walter says that he left it in the woods and don’t know where and so you lost it and never even had it in the first place, but know you lost it all right. Maybe it’s like that….

By that time they had pulled into town and stopped across the street from Mister Thomason’s.

The Negro rolled down the window, and Mister Leland peered across the street and saw his father resting on his post, then straighten up, saw Bobby-Joe spit into the street, and Mister Harper leaning forward.

“Thank you and God keep you, sir.” The Negro called to his father, then turned to him. “Thank you too, Mister Leland. You’re a fine young man, and if ever you should come North, do pay me a visit.” He reached into a tiny pocket in his vest and produced a card. Mister Leland took it, running his fingers across the raised surface of the letters, not looking at it. The Negro reached over and they shook hands—his hand was soft and flabby like a fat woman’s—then opened the door and Mister Leland hopped out. By the time he reached the porch, the car was halfway up to Harmon’s Draw.