At school Sandy passed all of his mid-year tests and, along with Sadie Butler, was advanced to the fifth A, but the other colored child in the class, a little fat girl named Mary Jones, failed and had to stay behind. Mary’s mother, a large sulphur-yellow woman who cooked at the Drummer’s Hotel, came to the school and told the teacher, before all the children, just what she thought of her for letting Mary fail—and her thoughts were not very complimentary to the stiff, middle-aged white lady who taught the class. The question of color came up, too, during the discussion.

“Look at ma chile settin’ back there behind all de white ones,” screamed the sulphur-yellow woman. “An’ me payin’ as much taxes as anybody! You treats us colored folks like we ain’t citizerzens—that’s what you does!” The argument had to be settled in the principal’s office, where the teacher went with the enraged mother, while the white children giggled that a fat, yellow colored lady should come to school to quarrel about her daughter’s not being promoted. But the colored children in the class couldn’t laugh.

St. Valentine’s day came and Sadie Butler sent Sandy a big red heart. But for Annjee, “the mail-man passed and didn’t leave no news,” because Jimboy hadn’t written yet, nor had Harriett thanked her for the three dollars she had mailed to Memphis before Christmas. There were no letters from anybody.

The work at Mrs. Rice’s was very heavy, because Mrs. Rice’s sister, with two children, had come from Indiana to spend the winter, and Annjee had to cook for them and clean their rooms, too. But she was managing to save a little money every week. She bought Sandy a new blue serge suit with a Norfolk coat and knickerbocker pants. And then he sat up very stiffly in Sterner’s studio and had his picture taken.

The freckled-faced white boy, Paul Biggers, who sat across from Sandy in school, delivered the Daily Leader to several streets in Sandy’s neighborhood, and Sandy sometimes went with him, helping to fold and throw the papers in the various doorways. One night it was almost seven o’clock when he got home.

“I had a great mind not to wait for you,” said Aunt Hager, who had long had the table set for supper. “Wash yo’ face an’ hands, sir! An’ brush that snow off yo’ coat ’fo’ you hang it up.”

His grandmother took a pan of hot spoon-bread from the oven and put it on the table, where the little oil-lamp glowed warmly and the plain white dishes looked clean and inviting. On the stove there was a skillet full of fried apples and bacon, and Hager was making a pot of tea.

“Umn-nn! Smells good!” said Sandy, speaking of everything at once as he slid into his chair. “Gimme a lot o’ apples, grandma.”

“Is that de way you ask fo’ ’em, sir? Can’t you say please no mo’?”

“Please, ma’am,” said the boy, grinning, for Hager’s sharpness wasn’t serious, and her old eyes were twinkling.