[Illustration: Hazel] HAZEL BY MARY WHITE OVINGTON AUTHOR OF “HALF A MAN” _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY HARRY ROSELAND CRISIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 26 VESEY STREET NEW YORK Copyright, 1913 BY MARY WHITE OVINGTON ROBERT N. WOOD, PRINTER 202 East Ninety-ninth Street, New York TO E. D. M. PREFACE When I was a little girl, my favorite books dealt with children whose lives were like my own. I smudged with many readings the pages that told of Susy and Prudy and Dotty in Portland, of their visits to the country, of their every-day happenings. Their adventures were far dearer to me than those of foreign lads and lasses and richly clad little princesses whose ways were not as my ways. I have thought for some time that the colored children in the United States might also like to have their intimate books telling of happenings that were like their own. They must be tired of reading always of far-away children. So, out of my years of experience among these soft-eyed, velvet-cheeked small friends, I have written this story. I have purposely avoided dialect. Correct English spelling is difficult enough to young readers without superimposing other forms for the not too-familiar words. I have, however, tried to give the turn of expression in the southern speech. I hope my colored child friends will smudge my pages. And if the white child stops to read, I trust that she will feel an awakened sympathy for the dark-faced boys and girls whose world is outside her own. M. W. O. BROOKLYN, N. Y., _September 15, 1913_. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THE QUEEN OF SHEBA 7 II. HEALTH AND A DAY 20 III. LEAVE TAKING 30 IV. THE JOURNEY 41 V. GRANNY 54 VI. LETTERS 67 VII. THAT OLD TIME RELIGION 74 VIII. BROTHER AND SISTER 84 IX. LOST 98 X. SPRING 114 XI. CHOOSING A BIRTHDAY 125 XII. GOOD-BYE 139 XIII. HOME 153 HAZEL CHAPTER I THE QUEEN OF SHEBA It was raining, and Hazel Tyler had not been allowed to go out all day. As she sat looking out of her window into the narrow Boston street she would have made a pretty picture but for the woe-begone expression on her brown face. Her hair was soft and curly, her eyes dark and clear, her mouth full, but delicate. Usually it was happy in expression; but this afternoon it drooped at the corners. Four o’clock! Two hours more before supper. Oh, this stupid, stupid Saturday!