beside the gloss of her shining hair. Her neck, and her arms from the
elbows, were bare. Her neck was very thin. One could almost see the
bones.

"Where are you going, Lewis?" said Mrs. Leighton, listlessly.

Lewis felt the tears rise to his eyes. He was ashamed of them.

"Do not speak to me," he said roughly. "You are a wicked woman. You have
sold Natalie." Then he turned fiercely on mammy. "And you," he
said--"you have dressed her for the market. You are a bad nigger."

Mrs. Leighton gasped and then began to cry softly. Mammy's eyes stared
at Lewis.

"Bad niggah, young Marster?" she mumbled vaguely.

Natalie grasped the table and leaned forward. "Lew!" she cried. "Why,
_Lew_!"

Lewis struck a tear from his cheek, turned, and fled. He went to the
rough lean-to that served as a stable and began to saddle his pony.

In all the heavens there was not a cloud. It was what the natives, too
often scourged by drought, called an ugly night. The full moon rose
visibly into the pale bowl of blue. Above her tropic glare the satellite
stars shone wanly and far away.

As Lewis was about to mount, Natalie came running from the house. She
held her new dress above her knees. Her white scarf streamed out like