“It must be Jimboy,” said Hager from the kitchen. “A lazy coon, settin’ out there in the cool singin’, an’ me in here sweatin’ and washin’ maself to dust!”

Kansas City Southern!
I mean de W. & A.!
I’m gonna ride de first train
I catch goin’ out ma way.
I’m got de railroad blues—

“I wish to God you’d go on, then!” mumbled Hager over the wash-boilers.

But I ain’t got no railroad fare!
I’m gwine to pack ma grip an’
Beat ma way away from here!

“Learn me how to pick a chord, papa,” Sandy begged as he sat beside his father under the apple-tree, loaded with ripe fruit.

“All right, look a-here! . . . You put your thumb like this . . .” Jimboy began to explain. “But, doggone, your fingers ain’t long enough yet!”

Still they managed to spend a half-day twanging at the old instrument, with Sandy trying to learn a simple tune.

The sunny August mornings had become September mornings, and most of Aunt Hager’s “white folks” had returned from their vacations; her kitchen was once more a daily laundry. Great boilers of clothes steamed on the stove and, beside the clothes, pans of apple juice boiled to jelly, and the peelings of peaches simmered to jam.

There was no news from the runaway Harriett. . . . Mrs. Lane died one sultry night, with Hager at the bedside, and was buried by the lodge with three hacks and a fifty-dollar coffin.... The following week the Drill of All Nations, after much practising by the women, was given with great success and Annjee, dressed in white and wrapped in a Scandinavian flag, marched proudly as Sweden.... Madam de Carter’s house was now locked and barred, as she had departed for Oklahoma to organize branches of the lodge there.... Tempy had stopped to see Hager one afternoon, but she didn’t stay long. She told her mother she was out collecting rents and that she and her husband were buying another house.... Willie-Mae had a new calico dress.... Buster had learned to swear better than Sandy.... And next Monday was to be the opening of the new school term.

Sandy hated even to think about going back to school. He was having much fun playing, and Jimboy had been teaching him to box. Then the time to go to classes came.

“Wash yo’ face good, sir, put on yo’ clean waist, an’ polish yo’ shoes,” Aunt Hager said bright and early, “’cause I don’t want none o’ them white teachers sayin’ I sends you to school dirty as a ’cuse to put you back in de fourth grade. You hear me, sir!”

“Yes’m,” Sandy replied.

This morning he was to enter the “white” fifth grade, having passed last June from the “colored” fourth, for in Stanton the Negro children were kept in separate rooms under colored teachers until they had passed the fourth grade. Then, from the fifth grade on, they went with the other children, and the teachers were white.