And so as Sarah learned to love Beulah Land, nearly all, but not all, of Beulah Land learned to love her. The child Roman, she discovered, followed her about. He never came close; he did not always follow her, and he never made a nuisance of himself by japing for her attention, but she was aware of the boy. A time or two she turned and endeavored to talk to him, but he was shy. At first he ran away. Then he stayed but was silent. She feared briefly that he was a “natural” in addition to his other afflictions, but soon decided from the intelligence of his eyes and his quick expressions that he was not a “natural”—was perhaps even “unnaturally” clever. Unable because of his shyness to talk to him, she smiled when they met to show she recognized him, and now and then she addressed him softly without giving any appearance of requiring an answer. She was, she declared one day to Lovey, “quite intrigued” with the child, at which Lovey looked startled and said, “No, don’t do that!” Sarah stared at her astonished. For a moment Lovey hesitated as if she were about to say more, and then she shook her head and walked away.

On the day after that, teased by the mystery of it, Sarah, during the course of an ordinary solitary walk, turned and saw the little boy, who immediately stopped too. With sudden decision she walked toward him, but he read the decision plainly in her face and gait and turned and ran. She laughed and ran after him, calling, “Roman, wait!” She had learned his name from Posie. He would not stop, though she called his name again, ran faster than she did, although she kept him in sight, across the field, and across the back yards where people turned to stare at the two, and on to the slave quarters. Having started the game, she would not stop, but followed him all the way. The one leading the other they ran to a cabin where a big-bodied woman sat on an open porch no more than half the size of a bedsheet. The woman caught the boy and held him as he tried to wriggle away. Sarah stopped on the single stone step, smiling and breathing hard from her exertion. The woman slapped the child hard. Roman did not cry, but stood rigid before her, his face flushing with shame and the force of the blow.

“Oh, please!” Sarah cried out in dismay.

The woman turned her face to her. “Surely he has done something wrong, if you were chasing him?”

“Not at all! I merely wanted to speak to him, so I called—it was like a game—we ran—”

The woman looked at the child. “You hear the lady? Why didn’t you stop if she called you?” She slapped him again. He did not, would not cry.

“Please don’t do that!” Sarah demanded.