s dry and withery and short-lived like a piece of thistle-down.

Mary Louise was watching with interest. Zenie struggled for a moment
and then turned and faced the inevitable. There was a growing decision
in her manner.

"H'do, Mis' Susie! Yas'm. I 'cided I'd drop in on you-all. Show him to
his white folks." She looked at Miss Susie and smiled a most uncertain
smile.

And then for the first time was the import of the visit brought fully
to the visitee.

"So," Miss Susie exploded, "that's where you've been. Out of town!
Humph! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Zenie looked as though she would like to defend herself, but it was
useless.

Miss Susie went on inexorably, "That worthless Zibbie Tuttle has been
tearing all my good linen and lace to pieces for the past three weeks.
And now I suppose I'll have to put up with her for a few weeks
longer."

"Yas'm," Zenie replied weakly.

"However"--Miss Susie pronounced it as though it were one syllable--"I
suppose I can't help it. What is it? Boy or girl?"

"Boy," said Zenie, and with growing decision, "but hit ain' him I come
to see you-all about. No'm. Thank you jes' as much. I jes' aim to tell
you I ain' take in no mo' wash. No'm. Zeke he don' want me to take in
no mo' wash. No'm."

"Zeke!" Miss Susie's snort was very ladylike. "Zeke!--and what has
Zeke to do with what _you_ want to do?"

"We'se ma'ied, ain' we, Mis' Susie?"

This was irrefutable, but more so the changing viewpoint. Zenie had
tasted emancipation. Miss Susie shrugged her shoulders and left the
room with short hurried steps.

Zenie turned to Mary Louise. "I'm tiahed of the ol' tub. 'Tain' no use
my weahin' myself out fu nuthin'. 'Sides, this heah boy a heap o'
trubbel." She shook her head doubtfully.

Mary Louise disregarded the confidence. "D'you say Mister Joe--Mister
Joe Hooper--named your baby? How could he? He's not even home."

"Yas'm. Yas'm, he is. He come in t' see Zeke this mo'nin'. Mist' Joe
lookin' mighty fine."

Mary Louise felt a curious sinking feeling of being shoved into a
discard. And then Miss Susie came hurrying back into the room. In her
hand she carried a small bundle of red flannel cloth freshly cut from
the bolt. Zenie eyed her uncertainly.

"Here. Here's something to keep out the cold--next winter. And you
oughtn't to bring _it_ out in such rainy weather." She went to the
door and held it open in all finality. And Zenie, with much secret and
inner scorning for