Mingo was a patent-leather black boy with wide, alive nostrils and a mouth that split into a lighthouse smile on the least provocation. His body was heavy and muscular, resting on bowed legs that curved backward as though the better to brace his chunky torso; and his hands were hard from mixing concrete and digging ditches for the city’s new water-mains.

“I know it’s tonight, but I can’t go,” Sandy heard his aunt say at the door. They were speaking of Benbow’s dance. “And his band don’t come here often, neither. I’m heart-sick having to stay home, dog-gone it all, especially this evening!”

“Aw come on and go anyway,” pleaded Mingo. “After I been savin’ up my dough for two weeks to take you, and got my suit cleaned and pressed and all. Heck! If you couldn’t go and knew it yesterday, why didn’t you tell me? That’s a swell way to treat a fellow!”

“Because I wanted to go,” said Harriett; “and still want to go.... Don’t make so much difference about mama, because she’s mad anyhow . . . but what could we do with this kid? We can’t leave him by himself.” She looked at Sandy, who was standing behind Mingo listening to everything.

“You can take me,” the child offered anxiously, his eyes dancing at the delightful prospect. “I’ll behave, Harrie, if you take me, and I won’t tell on you either.... Please lemme go, Mingo. I ain’t never seen a big dance in my life. I wanta go.”

“Should we?” asked Harriett doubtfully, looking at her boy friend standing firmly on his curved legs.

“Sure, if we got to have him . . . damn ’im!” Mingo replied. “Better the kid than no dance. Go git dressed.” So Harriett made a dash for the clothes-closet, while Sandy ran to get a clean waist from one of his mother’s dresser-drawers, and Mingo helped him put it on, cussing softly to himself all the while. “But it ain’t your fault, pal, is it?” he said to the little boy.

“Sure not,” Sandy replied. “I didn’t tell Aunt Hager to make Harrie stay home. I tried to ’suade grandma to let her go,” the child lied, because he liked Mingo. “I guess she won’t care about her goin’ to just one dance.” He wanted to make everything all right so the young man wouldn’t be worried. Besides, Sandy very much wanted to go himself.

“Let’s beat it,” Harriett shrilled excitedly before her dress was fastened, anxious to be gone lest her mother come home. She was powdering her face and neck in the next room, nervous, happy, and afraid all at once. The perfume, the voice, and the pat, pat, pat of the powder-puff came out to the waiting gentleman.

“Yo’ car’s here, madam,” mocked Mingo. “Step right this way and let’s be going!”

Wonder where ma easy rider’s gone—
He done left me, put ma new gold watch in pawn!

Like a blare from hell the second encore of Easy Rider filled every cubic inch of the little hall with hip-rocking notes. Benbow himself was leading and the crowd moved like jelly-fish dancing on individual sea-shells, with Mingo and Harriett somewhere among the shakers. But they were not of them, since each couple shook in a world of its own, as, with a weary wail, the music abruptly ceased.