“I HAVE not seen you for a few days,” I said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Working,” said Simple.

“Same place, your old job back?”

“Not yet—but the same place. I’m helping to reconvert. I went down there Monday and said, ‘Look here, don’t you need somebody to maintain while you converts?’

“The man said, ‘I believe they are short-handed, but I don’t believe they’re employing any colored boys in the reconversion jobs.’

“I said, ‘What makes you think I’m colored? They done took such words off of jobs in New York State by law.’

“I know he wanted to say, ‘But they ain’t took the black off of your face.’

“But he did not. He just looked kind of surprised when I said, ‘What makes you think I’m colored?’ Then he grinned. And I grinned. He is a right good-natured white man.

“He said, ‘Go see the foreman.’

“I did. And I got took on. I got tired of waiting for them to reconvert that plant, so I am reconverting along with them. In six or eight weeks, they’ll be ready to open up again. I will know a lots more about the new machines and things they are putting in because I’m watching every move they make and every screw they turn. Maybe I might even get a better job when the plant opens up. We got a good shop steward in my department. I believe he will look out for me.”

“I hope so,” I said. “You’ve been there long enough to deserve some upgrading.”

“I’m on the up-and-up,” said Simple. “I was so happy last night, I kissed Joyce all over the parlor. When we set down on the sofa she thought there was a bear next to her. I were so rambunctious, Joyce says, ‘There’s an end to this sofa—and you have got me right up against the end. Unhand me, Jess Semple. I’m going to make you something to drink.’

“Now that surprised me so that I let her go. Joyce had not ever made me a drink before—knowing how I drink in the street—except she’s giving a party and serving guests and such, which must include me. Well, sir, Joyce went on back in the kitchen, and in a few minutes she comes out with two cups and a pot just steaming, something with a spicy smell.

“‘Whiskey toddy?’

“‘Guess again.’

“‘Hot rum punch?’

“‘No!’ she says, ‘Sassafras tea.’

“‘What?’ I hollers. ‘Sassafras tea?’

“‘To cool the blood,’ she says. ‘You remember down home, old folks used to give it to the young folks in the spring? Well, spring is on its way, dear. And I think you need this.’