e black boy he kicked
him with his boot; and as though he could not wait for the rope for
which he had called, encircled his neck with his hands as though to
strangle him.

Then Tom uttered a cry. It was the first sound he had made, a broken
sob, uttered unconsciously as the hands closed about his throat.

To Hertha it was the cry of the baby who had been hers to tend and keep.
She saw him running to her along the alley in their old home, his lip
bleeding where a white boy had thrown a stone. She held her arms out to
succor him, and, a child herself, caught him to her heart and wiped away
his tears. Stretching her arms out again she prayed that she might help
him now. And suddenly, like a bolt from heaven, the word came to her
that should bring his release. She cried it at once, loudly, shrilly.
"He's my brother," she called. "He's my brother, he's a right to speak
to me!" And then, on the still hot air, "I'm colored, I'm colored!"

Dick's hands relaxed and fell to his sides. The men moved away, one of
them saying with a laugh, "Beg pardon, lady, the joke's on us." Tom,
unconscious, lay close to the lake on the pathway.

Out from among the trees, like a spirit in her white dress, Hertha moved
straight to Tom. Sitting beside his inert body she lifted his head upon
her lap. There was no light near, and she peered anxiously into his dark
face. Her hand, moving over his forehead, found a gash, and with her
handkerchief she wiped away the blood. He was so very still, his head
hung so lifelessly, that in fear she sought his temple and to her
infinite relief found the pulse throbbing. Caressingly she smoothed his
soft, velvet cheek.

"Want this?"

It was one of the men who brought her water from the lake in a paper
cup. She thanked him and wetting her handkerchief continued to wipe the
ugly wound. The man turned and went on his way.

Across the path, a long, thin, shadow-like figure, stood Dick. He had
not spoken or moved since Hertha had lifted the black boy's head upon
her white dress. He was so still she might have heard his breathing had
her thoughts been anywhere but with her charge. Now, when they were left
alone, he spoke.

"So that was your secret, my fine lady!" His bitter sneer hissed itself
into the night. "You're a grand lady, you are, and I'm only a Georgia
cracker!"

Stepping forward he bent down and tried to peer into her face. It was so
dark he could see little, only that she was watching for a movem