“Did you get my letter and the money?” Annjee asked. “We didn’t have no more to send you, and afterwards, when you didn’t write, I didn’t know if you got it.”

“I got it and meant to thank you, sis, but I don’t know—just didn’t get round to it. But, anyway, I’m out of the South now. It’s a hell—I mean it’s an awful place if you don’t know anybody! And more hungry niggers down there! I wonder who made up that song about Dear Old Southland. There’s nothing dear about it that I can see. Good God! It’s awful! . . . But I’m back.” She smiled. “Where’s Jimboy? . . . O, that’s right, Annjee—you told me in the letter. But I sort-a miss him around here. Lord, I hope he didn’t go to Memphis!”

“Did you find a job down there?” Annjee asked, looking at her sister’s delicate hands.

“Sure, I found a job all right,” Harriett replied in a tone that made Annjee ask no more questions. “Jobs are like hen’s teeth—try and find ’em.” And she shrugged her shoulders as Sandy had so often seen her do, but she no longer seemed to him like a little girl. She was grown-up and hard and strange now, but he still loved her.

“Aunt Harrie, I passed to the fifth A,” he announced proudly.

“That’s wonderful,” she answered. “My, but you’re smart! You’ll be a great man some day, sure, Sandy.”

“Where’s yo’ suit-case, honey?” Hager interrupted, too happy to touch her food on the table or to take her eyes away from the face of her returned child. “Didn’t you bring it back with you? Where is it?”

“Sure, I got it.... But I’m gonna live at Maudel’s this time, mama.... I left it at the station. I didn’t think you-all’d want me here.” She tried to make the words careless-like, but they were pitifully forced.

“Aw, honey!” Annjee cried, the tears coming.

The shadow of inner pain passed over Hager’s black face, but the only reply she made was: “You’s growed up now, chile. I reckon you knows what you’s doin’. You’s been ten thousand miles away from yo’ mammy, an’ I reckon you knows.... Come on, Sandy, let’s we eat.” Slowly the old woman returned to the cold food on her plate. “Won’t you eat something with us, daughter?”

Harriett’s eyes lowered and her shoulders drooped. “No, mama, thank you. I’m—not hungry.”

Then a long, embarrassing silence followed while Hager gulped at her tea, Sandy tried to swallow a mouthful of bread that seemed to choke him, and Annjee stared stupidly at the stove.

Finally Harriett said: “I got to go now.” She stood up to button her coat and put on her hat. Then she took her metal purse from the table.

“Maudel’ll be waiting for me, but I’ll be seeing you-all again soon, I guess. Good-bye, Sandy honey! I got to go.... Annjee, I got to go now.... Good-bye, mama!” She was trembling. As she bent down to kiss Hager, her purse slipped out of her hands and fell in a little metal heap on the floor. She stooped to pick it up.