After soaking all night, the garments were rubbed through the suds in the morning; and in the afternoon the colored articles were on the line while the white pieces were boiling seriously in a large tin boiler on the kitchen-stove.

“They sho had plenty this week,” Hager said to her grandson, who sat on the stoop eating a slice of bread and apple butter. “I’s mighty late gettin’ ’em hung out to dry, too. Had no business stoppin’ this mawnin’ to go see sick folks, and me here got all I can do maself! Looks like this warm weather old Mis’ Reinhart must change ever’ piece from her dress to her shimmy three times a day—sendin’ me a washin’ like this here!” They heard the screen-door at the front of the house open and slam. “It’s a good thing they got me to do it fo’ ’em! . . . Sandy, see who’s that at de do’.”

It was Harriett, home from the country club for the afternoon, cool and slender and pretty in her black uniform with its white collar, her smooth black face and neck powdered pearly, and her crinkly hair shining with pomade. She smelled nice and perfumy as Sandy jumped on her like a dog greeting a favorite friend. Harriett kissed him and let him hang to her arm as they went through the bedroom to the kitchen. She carried a brown cardboard suit-case and a wide straw hat in one hand.

“Hello, mama,” she said.

Hager poked the boiling clothes with a vigorous splash of her round stick. The steam rose in clouds of soapy vapor.

“I been waitin’ for you, madam!” her mother replied in tones that were not calculated to welcome pleasantly an erring daughter. “I wants to know de truth—was you in town last Monday night or not?”

Harriett dropped her suit-case against the wall. “You seem to have the truth,” she said carelessly. How’d you get it? . . . Here, Sandy, take this out in the yard and eat it, seed and all.” She gave her nephew a plum she had brought in her pocket. “I was in town, but I didn’t have time to come home. I had to go to Maudel’s because she’s making me a dress.”

“To Maudel’s! . . . Unhuh! An’ to de Waiters’ Ball, besides galavantin’ up an’ down Pearl Street after ten o’clock! I wouldn’t cared so much if you’d told me beforehand, but you said you didn’t come in town ’ceptin’ Thursday afternoon, an’ here I was believing yo’ lies.”

“It’s no lies! I haven’t been in town before.”

“Who brung you here at night anyhow—an’ there ain’t no trains runnin’?”

“O, I came in with the cook and some of the boys, mama, that’s who! They hired an auto for the dance. What would be the use coming home, when you and Annjee go to bed before dark like chickens?”

“That’s all right, madam! Annjee’s got sense—savin’ her health an’ strength!”