"Thank you," answered Tom wearily. "Can you give me something to eat?"

"Yassir. You come right in."

"I'd better unsaddle the horse first, mammy," replied Tom.

"Jasper, you tell yo' pa to unsaddle this gentleman's horse. You come right
in here, sir. I'll tell the white folks."

Tom needed no second urging. He entered the big kitchen, his stomach
wrenching and aching at the odor of food. "Don't bother about telling the
white folks that I'm here, mammy," he said. "Just give me something to eat.
I'm starving."

"Yassir, yassir," replied the old woman, "but a kitchen ain't no place for
white folks to eat. I'll just run an' tell Mr. Beecham you all is here."
She disappeared through the door leading to the back part of the house.

Tom decided that it was no time for ceremony. On the table lay a loaf of
bread--the colored woman had been slicing it when he knocked--and in the
pan sizzled a dozen slices of bacon. In less than five seconds, Tom was
eating a bacon sandwich. And he was halfway through the second sandwich
when the colored woman came back to the kitchen.

"Sakes!" she exclaimed. "I guess you is suh-tainly hungry. Mr. Beecham he's
coming right away."

Mr. Beecham proved to be an elderly, stern-faced gentleman. He stood in the
doorway gazing at Tom.