“If I am to get home,” she would argue to herself, “I must grow stronger every day;” and swinging wide her arms, she would take deep breaths of the delicious air. In the afternoon she would write to her mother, and later she and Granny would often take a walk across the bare fields, occasionally stopping at a neighbor’s cottage. Hazel would look shyly at the barefooted, barelegged little black children, but she could not think of anything to say to them, and they in their turn only stared. When dusk came she would watch the turkeys as they went to roost in the trees. One tree seemed almost full of these strange birds, half wild, half domesticated. In the evening Granny and she would sit before the open fire and tell one another stories. Hazel loved to recite poetry, and Granny never tired of the “Village Blacksmith” and “The little Shadow that goes in and out with me.” Hazel had an odd assortment of poems, among them Whittier’s “Slave Ship” which she recited with great feeling. “Those were dark days,” Granny would say, and then perhaps, to Hazel’s unending delight, would sing, “Let my people go,” or “Oh, freedom over me!” The strange music in the quiet house by the open fire, stirred the child’s heart. Then, when she was safe in bed, Granny would stand near the candle and would make funny figures upon the wall--Brer Rabbit and his numerous family. And with a laugh and a good-night, Hazel would turn over and fall asleep. So the quiet days went by and brought in the New Year. CHAPTER VI LETTERS December 26. Darling Mother:-- Christmas day is like the Fourth of July, they set off fire crackers, and it is so warm that you wear summer dresses. I wore my white dress. I read last night to Granny from the minister’s book. You know he wrote, not to be opened until Christmas. It is full of poems. The first one says: Where did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into here. There are babies living about here, only their mothers don’t wash them very much. There are no bath tubs and no hot water faucets. I take my bath in the wash tub. December 27. I went to Sunday school Sunday, and there were 16 children. The teacher comes from the school at Jonesville, 8 miles away. It is a fine school, as fine as the Jamaica Plains grammar school, and ladies from the North come down to teach. They teach only colored boys and girls. The Sunday school was in the church, and all the boys and girls had bare feet. Some are so poor they had no pennies to bring, and guess, what do you think they put in the plate, EGGS!!! Only it was a hat. An egg is worth a penny, and I eat a great many of them. They had the same singing books we have at Boston. Some kind ladies sent them down. The children sing much prettier than at home. The teeniest can sing alto.