He gives a tight laugh at his own good humor. Kabnis burns red. The back of his neck stings him beneath his collar. He feels stifled. Through Ramsay, the whole white South weighs down upon him. The pressure is terrific. He sweats under the arms. Chill beads run down his body. His brows concentrate upon the handle as though his own life was staked upon the perfect shaving of it. He begins to out and out botch the job. Halsey smiles. Halsey: He’ll make a good un some of these days, Mr. Ramsay. Mr. Ramsay: Y ought t know. Yer daddy was a good un before y. Runs in th family, seems like t me. Halsey: Thats right, Mr. Ramsay. Kabnis is hopeless. Halsey takes the handle from him. With a few deft strokes he shaves it. Fits it. Gives it to Ramsay. Mr. Ramsay: How much on this? Halsey: No charge, Mr. Ramsay. Mr. Ramsay (going out): All right, Halsey. Come down an take it out in trade. Shoe-strings or something. Halsey: Yassur, Mr. Ramsay. Halsey rejoins Lewis and Layman. Kabnis, hangdog-fashion, follows him. Halsey: They like y if y work fer them. Layman: Thats right, Mr. Halsey. Thats right, sho. The group is about to resume its talk when Hanby enters. He is all energy, bustle, and business. He goes direct to Kabnis. Hanby: An axle is out in the buggy which I would like to have shaped into a crow-bar. You will see that it is fixed for me. Without waiting for an answer, and knowing that Kabnis will follow, he passes out. Kabnis, scowling, silent, trudges after him. Hanby (from the outside): Have that ready for me by three o’clock, young man. I shall call for it. Kabnis (under his breath as he comes in): Th hell you say, you old black swamp-gut. He slings the axle on the floor. Halsey: Wheeee! Layman, lunch finished long ago, rises, heavily. He shakes hands with Lewis. Layman: Might not see y again befo y leave, Mr. Lewis. I enjoys t hear y talk. Y might have been a preacher. Maybe a bishop some day. Sho do hope t see y back this away again sometime, Mr. Lewis. Lewis: Thanks, Professor. Hope I’ll see you. Layman waves a long arm loosely to the others, and leaves. Kabnis goes to the door. His eyes, sullen, gaze up the street. Kabnis: Carrie K.’s comin with th lunch. Bout time. She passes the window. Her red girl’s-cap, catching the sun, flashes vividly. With a stiff, awkward little movement she crosses the door-sill and gives Kabnis one of the two baskets which she is carrying. There is a slight stoop to her shoulders. The curves of her body blend with this to a soft rounded charm. Her gestures are stiffly variant. Black bangs curl over the forehead of her oval-olive face. Her expression is dazed, but on provocation it can melt into a wistful smile. Adolescent. She is easily the sister of Fred Halsey. Carrie K.: Mother says excuse her, brother Fred an Ralph, fer bein late. Kabnis: Everythings all right an O.K., Carrie Kate. O.K. an all right.