“After she done gone to bed, late one springtime night when de moon were shinin’, I hear Miss Jeanne a-cryin’: ‘He’s come! . . . Hager, ma Robert’s come back to me!’ An’ I jumped out o’ ma bed in de next room where I were sleepin’ an’ run in to her, an’ there she was in her long, white night-clothes standin’ out in de moonlight on de little balcony, high up in de middle o’ that big stone porch. She was lookin’ down into de yard at this stump of a tree a-holdin’ up its arms. An’ she thinks it’s Marster Robert a-callin’ her. She thinks he’s standin’ there in his uniform, come back from de war, a-callin’ her. An’ she say: ‘I’m comin’, Bob, dear;’ . . . I can hear her now.... She say: ‘I’m comin’!’ . . . An’ ’fore I think what she’s doin’, Miss Jeanne done stepped over de little rail o’ de balcony like she were walkin’ on moonlight. An’ she say: ‘I’m comin’, Bob!’

“She ain’t left no will, so de house an’ all went to de State, an’ I been left with nothin’. But I ain’t care ’bout that. I followed her to de grave, an’ I been with her all de time, ’cause she’s ma friend. An’ I were sorry for her, ’cause I knowed that love were painin’ her soul, an’ warn’t nobody left to help her but me.

“An’ since then I’s met many a white lady an’ many a white gentleman, an’ some of ’em’s been kind to me an’ some of ’em ain’t; some of ’em’s cussed me an’ wouldn’t pay me fo’ ma work; an’ some of ’em’s hurted me awful. But I’s been sorry fo’ white folks, fo’ I knows something inside must be aggravatin’ de po’ souls. An’ I’s kept a room in ma heart fo’ ’em, ’cause white folks needs us, honey, even if they don’t know it. They’s like spoilt chillens what’s got too much o’ ever’thing—an’ they needs us niggers, what ain’t got nothin’.

“I’s been livin’ a long time in yesterday, Sandy chile, an’ I knows there ain’t no room in de world fo’ nothin’ mo’n love. I knows, chile! Ever’thing there is but lovin’ leaves a rust on yo’ soul. An’ to love sho ’nough, you got to have a spot in yo’ heart fo’ ever’body—great an’ small, white an’ black, an’ them what’s good an’ them what’s evil—’cause love ain’t got no crowded-out places where de good ones stays an’ de bad ones can’t come in. When it gets that way, then it ain’t love.

“White peoples maybe mistreats you an’ hates you, but when you hates ’em back, you’s de one what’s hurted, ’cause hate makes yo’ heart ugly—that’s all it does. It closes up de sweet door to life an’ makes ever’thing small an’ mean an’ dirty. Honey, there ain’t no room in de world fo’ hate, white folks hatin’ niggers, an’ niggers hatin’ white folks. There ain’t no room in this world fo’ nothin’ but love, Sandy chile. That’s all they’s room fo’—nothin’ but love.”