hey had been in
their own home.

In the morning, Beth was wakened by Marian pulling up the shade. A
stream of sunshine flooded their berth, blinding Beth for a second or
two. Snow and clouds had been left far behind.

"It's almost like summer," cried Beth, hastening to dress.

After breakfast, the porter, whose name Beth learned was "Bob," took
her out on the back platform while the engine was taking on water. To
the left of the train were five colored children clustered around a
stump.

"Bob, how many children have you?" asked Beth, and her eyes opened wide
in astonishment.

"Law, honey," and Bob's grin widened, "I ain't got any chillun. I'se a
bachelor."

Beth stamped her foot. She could not bear deceit. "Bob, it's very
wrong to tell stories. These children must be yours; they're just like
you."

He laughed so heartily at the idea, that Beth feared his mouth never
would get into shape again. "Ha, ha, ha. Dem my chillun! Ha, ha, ha.
Law, honey, dem ain't mine. Thank de Lord, I don't have to feed all
dem hungry, sassy, little niggahs."

"Well, Bob, if they're not yours, whose are they?"

"Dem's jes' culled chillun."

A whistle sounded, and the train was soon under way again. Beth ran to
her mother.

"Mamma, there were a lot of little Bobs outside, but he says they are
not his children--that they're just colored children."

Mrs. Davenport had a hard time making her understand that Bob had told
the truth. Beth sat very still for a while by a window. Suddenly, she
cried out:

"What are those little specks of white? They look like little balls of
snow, only they can't be. It's too warm, and then I never saw snow
grow on bushes."

"That is cotton."

Although the bushes were not in their full glory--only having on them a
little of last year's fruitage that was not picked--Beth thought a
cotton field a very pretty sight.

[Illustration: Beth thought a cotton field a very pretty sight.
(Illustration missing from book)]

The pine trees of Georgia prove monotonous to most people, except that
their perpetual green is restful to the eye in the midst of white sand
and dazzling sunshine. Beth, however, liked even the pines, being a
lover of all trees. They seemed almost human to her. She believed
that trees could speak if they would. She often talked to them, and
fondled their rough old bark. Children can have worse companions than
trees. They were a great comfort to Beth all through lif