“Some o’ Maudel’s makin’s, that dress—anybody can tell,” her mother went on quarrelling. “Short an’ shameless as it can be! Regular bad gal’s dress, that’s what ’tis. . . . What you puttin’ it on fo’ anyhow, an’ I done told you you ain’t goin’ out? You must think I don’t mean ma words. Ain’t more’n sixteen last April an’ runnin’ to barbecues at Willer Grove! De idee! When I was yo’ age, wasn’t up after eight o’clock, ’ceptin’ Sundays in de church house, that’s all.... Lawd knows where you young ones is headin’. An’ me prayin’ an’ washin’ ma fingers to de bone to keep a roof over yo’ head.”

The sharp honk of an automobile horn sounded from the street. A big red car, full of laughing brown girls gaily dressed, and coatless, slick-headed black boys in green and yellow silk shirts, drew up at the curb. Somebody squeezed the bulb of the horn a second time and another loud and saucy honk! struck the ears.

“You Sandy,” Hager commanded. “Run out there an’ tell them niggers to leave here, ’cause Harriett ain’t goin’ no place.”

But Sandy did not move, because his young and slender aunt had gripped him firmly by the collar while she searched feverishly in the dresser-drawer for a scarf. She pulled it out, long and flame-colored, with fiery, silky fringe, before she released the little boy.

“You ain’t gwine a step this evenin’!” Hager shouted. “Don’t you hear me?”

“O, no?” said Harriett coolly in a tone that cut like knives. “You’re the one that says I’m not going—but I am!”

Then suddenly something happened in the room—the anger fell like a veil from Hager’s face, disclosing aged, helpless eyes full of fear and pain.

“Harriett, honey, I wants you to be good,” the old woman stammered. The words came pitiful and low—not a command any longer—as she faced her terribly alive young daughter in the ruffled blue dress and the red silk stockings. “I just wants you to grow up decent, chile. I don’t want you runnin’ to Willer Grove with them boys. It ain’t no place fo’ you in the night-time—an’ you knows it. You’s mammy’s baby girl. She wants you to be good, honey, and follow Jesus, that’s all.”

The baritone giggling of the boys in the auto came across the yard as Hager started to put a timid, restraining hand on her daughter’s shoulder—but Harriett backed away.

“You old fool!” she cried. “Lemme go! You old Christian fool!”

She ran through the door and across the sidewalk to the waiting car, where the arms of the young men welcomed her eagerly. The big machine sped swiftly down the street and the rapid sput! sput! sput! of its engine grew fainter and fainter. Finally, the auto was only a red tail-light in the summer dusk. Sandy, standing beside his grandmother in the doorway, watched it until it disappeared.

V. GUITAR

Throw yo’ arms around me, baby,
Like de circle round de sun!
Baby, throw yo’ arms around me
Like de circle round de sun,
An’ tell yo’ pretty papa
How you want yo’ lovin’ done!