“They look on such generosity as weakness. If they get away with it one time, they’ll try another.”

“You have my instructions. That is all.”

“The working day is over. Tomorrow—”

“Send Pojo to me here. I shall tell him.”

“I shall be glad to send someone to send Pojo to you here. Mrs. Kendrick. As for me, I must go to my own little farm now and close the day’s work there.”

“Very well but send—see that Pojo comes to me.”

Roscoe nodded carefully, holding his contempt within reasonable bounds.

A quarter of an hour later Lovey entered the office without knocking and said, “Pojo’s here and says he’s been sent for.”

“Yes.”

Frowning at her mistress, Lovey muttered, “Thieving scoundrel,” and went out the door.

A minute later the man entered, smiling hugely, nervously, falsely. Sarah had seen him often enough before, but only at a distance. She had never had occasion to speak to him. “Are you all right, Pojo?” she asked.

“Whassat? Whassat, ma’am?” His face was a mask of grinning, calculated stupidity.

“I asked if you were all right,” she said sharply.

He considered. “Yas’m. Yas’m. Tolerable.” He nodded his head vigorously, as if agreeing with himself.

“You are to have your pig back, Pojo.”

“Yas’m!” He nodded again.

“I know that Mr. Elk took him from you, but you are to have him back again. He is yours, to raise and sell or not, just as you please. He belongs to you. Do you understand?”

“Yas’m. He is a moughty skinny ole hog. Not worth much, not ever gone be worth much, I reckon.”

“Well, he is yours.” Sarah smiled, trying to coax the man into relaxing and speaking to her naturally. “I’m sorry you were punished. It should not have happened. I did not authorize anyone to have you beaten.”

“Yas’m. They say they caught me at it. But it was just our own corn.”

“Yes.”

“Our corn I was taking to feed him, skinny ole bo’ hog.”

“I understand how you thought about it when you did it.”

“They whipped me for it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That is what I have been saying. It shouldn’t have been so.”

“Yas’m. But they did. What do Mistress want to see me about?”

10

“I declare I don’t know what you carrying on so for, honey, calling yourself a monster. Less I got it wrong—did I? Some little nigger boy sucked your peter when you was lying buck naked and half asleep after swimming in the creek. Sugar, that kind of thing must happen all the time, them being the animals and all they are. If nothing worse ever occurs to you, you better think yourself lucky.”

Leon, who’d had no sleep for two days except for odd half hours, lurched to his feet and slapped the woman across the face.