“Come on, Sandy,” she said. “I guess I’m ready.”

As they went out, they heard a man’s voice in a shabby house across the street singing softly to a two-finger piano accompaniment:

Sugar babe, I’m leavin’
An’ it won’t be long....

While outside, on his front door-step, two nappy-headed little yellow kids were solemnly balling-the-jack.

Two days before, Sandy had come home from school and found his grandmother lying across the bed, the full tubs still standing in the kitchen, her clothes not yet hung out to dry.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’s washed down, chile,” said the old woman, panting. “I feels kinder tired-like, that’s all.”

But Sandy knew that there must be something else wrong with Aunt Hager, because he had never seen her lying on the bed in broad daylight, with her clothes still in the tubs.

“Does your back ache?” asked the child.

“I does feel a little misery,” sighed Aunt Hager. “But seems to be mo’ ma side an’ not ma back this time. But ’tain’t nothin’. I’s just tired.”

But Sandy was scared. “You want some soda and water, grandma?”

“No, honey.” Then, in her usual tones of assumed anger: “Go on away from here an’ let a body rest. Ain’t I told you they ain’t nothin’ the matter ’ceptin’ I’s all washed out an’ just got to lay down a minute? Go on an’ fetch in yo’ wood . . . an’ spin yo’ top out yonder with Buster and them. Go on!”

It was nearly five o’clock when the boy came in again. Aunt Hager was sitting in the rocker near the stove then, her face drawn and ashy. She had been trying to finish her washing.

“Chile, go get Sister Johnson an’ ask her if she can’t wring out ma clothes fo’ me—Mis’ Dunset ain’t sent much washin’ this week, an’ you can help her hang ’em up. I reckon it ain’t gonna rain tonight, so’s they can dry befo’ mawnin’.”

Sandy ran towards the door.

“Now, don’t butt your brains out!” said the old lady. “Ain’t no need o’ runnin’.”

Not only did Sister Johnson come at once and hang out the washing, but she made Hager get in bed, with a hot-water bottle on her paining side. And she gave her a big dose of peppermint and water.

“I ’spects it’s from yo’ stomick,” she said. “I knows you et cabbage fo’ dinner!”

“Maybe ’tis,” said Hager.

Sister Johnson took Sandy to her house for supper that evening and he and Willie-Mae ate five sweet potatoes each.

“You-all gwine bust!” said Tom Johnson.

About nine o’clock the boy went to bed with his grandmother, and all that night Hager tossed and groaned, in spite of her efforts to lie quiet and not keep Sandy awake. In the morning she said: “Son, I reckon you better stay home from school, ’cause I’s feelin’ mighty po’ly. Seems like that cabbage ain’t digested yet. Feels like I done et a stone.... Go see if you can’t make de fire up an’ heat me a cup o’ hot water.”