family; adding, as she rose, "but they own us body and soul." She
hurried out of the dining-room without further remark. Miss Smith was
more patient with black folk than with white.

The sun was hanging just above the tallest trees of the swamp when Miss
Taylor, weary with the day's work, climbed into the buggy beside Bles.
They wheeled comfortably down the road, leaving the sombre swamp, with
its black-green, to the right, and heading toward the golden-green of
waving cotton fields. Miss Taylor lay back, listlessly, and drank the
soft warm air of the languorous Spring. She thought of the golden sheen
of the cotton, and the cold March winds of New England; of her brother
who apparently noted nothing of leaves and winds and seasons; and of the
mighty Cresswells whom Miss Smith so evidently disliked. Suddenly she
became aware of her long silence and the silence of the boy.

"Bles," she began didactically, "where are you from?"

He glanced across at her and answered shortly:

"Georgia, ma'am," and was silent.

The girl tried again.

"Georgia is a large State,"--tentatively.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you going back there when you finish?"

"I don't know."