ebs stretched along the hedges,
they went out into the yard, where old Frank came running to meet them
with his morning welcome of wagging tail.

But the grin had come back to the visitor's face now. He was afraid of
Aunt Cindy, of the maid, of Jake, of all grown folks. In vain Tommy
tried to play with him: he did not know how to play--a wagon was a wagon
to him, nothing more; a stick a stick, and not a horse to be ridden.
Tommy gave it up. They walked around inspecting things, like little old
men. Now and then the visitor swore, the oaths coming naturally, like
any other talk. He did not even know he was swearing. Tommy, listening,
grinned now and then, looking at his visitor with comprehending eyes.
The little shrill oaths fascinated him; as for the child who uttered
them, God had never entered his garden in the cool of the evening, and
he didn't know he was naked.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, an old black woman, seeing them saunter
about, followed by old Frank, and noting that they did not play but
talked, shook her wise head.

"I wish Mr. Steve would come," she said. "He teachin' dat chile things
he ought not to know."

He came early in the afternoon. Tommy saw the long shining car turn in
at the end of the avenue and Frank race to meet it. At the boy's cry
that yonder came Papa, Joe turned and started toward the barn.

"Where you goin'?" demanded Tommy.

"He'll beat me up," said Joe.

While the car hummed up the avenue the two stood close together, Tommy's
face earnest as he argued and reassured.

The car stopped near the garage. A tall, clean-shaved man in palm beach
clothes and panama hat came toward them. "Hello, old man," he said and
stooped down and kissed one boy; then straightening up: "Who's this
you've got with you?"

"Joe," said Tommy simply.

He saw the keen look in the gray eyes, the smile that caused the fine
wrinkles to gather about their corners way up there under the panama
hat.

"Well, Joe--where did you drop from?"

Then Aunt Cindy called the master of Freedom Hill aside, and Tommy saw
the old woman talking earnestly up into his face. His father nodded,
then came toward them, smiling.

"All right, boys," he said. "Come up on the porch where it's cool, and
tell me all about it."

But Joe would not tell. He drew away and looked at the man with that
scrappy grin. Silence, secretiveness where grown people were, had been
beaten into his small brain. Out behind the house, the conferenc