door stands a gayly colored iron bed,
over which is thrown a piece of oilcloth to keep the rain from leaking
on it. In the center of the room are several little quaint home-made
stools and two broken rockers, while in one corner sits a roughly
finished kitchen table, the dumping place of all small articles. Still
in another corner, almost hidden from sight in the darkness, is the dim
outline of an old trunk gaping open with worn out clothing, possibly the
gift of some white person. A big fireplace in one side of the wall not
only furnishes heat for the little room, but also serves as a cooking
place for Lizzie to prepare her meals. On its hearth sits a large iron
kettle, spider, and griddle, relics of an earlier day. The room is dimly
lighted by the fire and from two small doors, together with a few tiny
streaks that peep through at various cracks in the walls and top of
house.

It is about 9 o'clock on a cold, drizzly morning in January, 1938. The
little two room house, in which Lizzie rents one room for herself,
displays an appearance of extreme coldness and dilapidation, as a
visitor approaches the doorway on this particular morning. It is with
somewhat of an effort that the visitor finally reaches the barred door
of Lizzie's room, after making a skip here and there to keep from
falling through the broken places in the little porch and at the same
time trying to dodge the continual dripping of the rain through numerous
crevices in the porch roof. Within is the sound of little feet scuffling
about on the floor, the chatter of tiny children mixed with mumblings
from Lizzie, and the noise of chairs and stools being roughly shoved
about on the floor.

A rap on the door brings Lizzie, crippled up since she was twelve years
of age, hobbling to the door. Taking her walking stick, she lifts the
latch gently and the door opens slightly. A gray head appears through
the crack of the door and Lizzie, peeping out from above her tiny rim
spectacles, immediately recognizes her visitor. She offers her usual
cheerful greeting and begins hastily to push the large wooden tubs from
the door to make room for her visitor to enter, though it is with
unusual hesitancy that she invites her guest to come in on this
occasion.

Lizzie--Come in, Miss Davis. I feelin right smart dis mornin. How you
been keepin yourself? Miss Davis, I regrets you have to find things so
nasty up in here dis mornin, but all dis rainy weather got me obliged to
ke