Are they what Gramp is talking about, what he’s talked about for years: black brainless stinking creatures prowling the bushes of the night, glittering razors in dark hands, ready to kill and rob any white man or rape any white girl passing?

Is that what they are? And if it is, why would Dad want to help them?

That tall young fellow in the clean white shirt named Joey Green who is just as smart as anyone in English, and in math, and who would look so handsome if he—

Is that what a Negro is?

Or are there both kinds, like with us?

He’s not brainless. I don’t think he smells.

He’s—

Ella felt a chill and curled up in the bed; she came so close to sleep, she scarcely heard the telephone.

It rang three times.

On the fourth ring, she got up and walked into the hallway. Gramp was sitting in the chair in front of the television set, but the set was not switched on.

Ella lifted the receiver and said, “Hello,” mechanically.

The voice shocked her. “Ella, this is Adam. Don’t hang up.”

She had managed, somehow, to put him out of her mind, to forget (actually, to forget!) that she ever had anything to do with the person who was causing all this trouble.

“Ella!”

She pulled the phone away from her ear and heard the tiny voice calling her name insistently. Only now, at this instant, did she realize that it was true; that the handsome young man who had come to the town a stranger a few days ago was responsible for everything.

And realizing this, she was afraid.

“Ella, listen to me. It’s important.”

She put the phone back to her ear. She said, “What do you want?”

His voice was different now. All the humor was gone, all the grown-up, crazy fun. “Is your mother there?”

“No.”

“All right, then; listen. You and I have got to talk. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you.”

“Ella, I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I can explain it.”

“No,” Ella said.

There was a pause. “If you’re interested in saving your father’s life,” the voice said, “you’d better be ready in ten minutes.”

The connection broke. The telephone whined.

Ella put it down slowly. Her hand was trembling, and she felt cold again—colder than she’d ever felt before. She wanted to go into the bedroom and lock the door and never leave, but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do anything.

In a short time, an automobile horn sounded outside.

She went to the door, hesitated a moment, then walked to the waiting Chevrolet.