bent down under the top of the motor and pointed out his place. A minute
later the machine came to a noisy halt and was choked into silence. At
that moment, in the sweep of the head-light, Peter saw Viny Berry, one
of Nan's younger sisters, coming up from Niggertown's public well,
carrying two buckets of water.

Viny was hurrying, plashing the water over the sides of her buckets. The
importance of her mission was written in her black face.

"She's awful thirsty," she called to Peter in guarded tones. "Nan called
me to fetch some fraish water fum de well."

Peter took the water that had been brought from the semi-cesspool at the
end of the street. Viny hurried across the street to home and to bed.
With the habitual twinge of his sanitary conscience, Peter considered
the water in the buckets.

"We'll have to boil this," he said to the doctor.

"Boil it?" repeated Jallup, blankly. Then, he added: "Oh, yes--boil.
Certainly."

* * * * *

A repellent odor of burned paper, breathed air, and smoky lights filled
the close room. Nan had lighted another lamp and now the place was
discernible in a dull yellow glow. In the corner lay a half-burned wisp
of paper. Nan herself stood by the mound on the bed, putting straight
the quilts that her patient had twisted awry.