“I’m Missus Willson. Let’s go back into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee and talk.” She reached out her hand; Bethrah removed a pair of white gloves and they shook hands.

“I’m Bethrah Scott, Missus Willson. Very nice to meet you.” And she smiled again. It was such a wonderful smile.

“Bertha?”

“No, ma’am. Beth-rah.” And she spelled it.

“Bethrah. All right. I have it. Well, come along, dear. Let’s have some coffee.”

I went right after them and stared at her. I’m sort of a schemer, and I was thinking some very selfish thoughts. First of all, I wanted to ask her where she bought her shoes, because they didn’t look like any I’d ever seen in New Marsails. I would’ve known because I go and shop just about every week. The other thing I was thinking was even more selfish: there aren’t too many girls around here, at least that I can talk to; they’re all farm girls. And most of my girl friends are in New Marsails. But here was this nice-looking girl who couldn’t have been more than three years older than me, and it seemed like it would be very nice to know her. And a good thing about having her for a friend was that she was colored and there wouldn’t be any competition between us as far as boys were concerned, because that kind of thing always makes girls enemies even if they’re very close.

Anyway, Mother sat at the kitchen table. Missus Caliban stood behind her, and I could see she liked Bethrah very much too. Bethrah was sitting across from Mother and I sat down on a stool by the door so I could see her face and the shoes too, all at once.

“Well, Beth…rah,” Mother said, “why don’t you tell me something about yourself. Do you have any experience?” She was trying to be businesslike, which she isn’t. That question would have frightened me. You know how it is when someone says: Why don’t you tell me about yourself. You don’t know where to start and you get all nervous and your hands sweat. But Bethrah didn’t seem nervous at all. She could cope with anything.

“No, Missus Willson, I haven’t. But I know how to do the job. My mother was a maid and I watched and helped her a great deal.”

I guess if just anyone came and said they had no experience Mother would have told her right away she couldn’t have the job. But Mother told me later she wanted to hire Bethrah the minute she saw her, and now she had to find a good reason why to hire her.

“Tell me this, dear, why does a girl like yourself want to work as a maid? I’d guess you’ve had an education.”