Hazel walked a little way along the road, when she was startled by a dog, which ran out from under a house and barked furiously at her. She held her stick tight, determined to use it if necessary, though Scip had said nothing about hitting dogs. But the animal only barked and she passed by it in safety. This incident, however, made her apprehensive, and after a little more investigation without interesting results she turned to go home. What had become of the hill down which she had run? It seemed to have melted into the landscape. Striving to retrace her steps she ran up one acclivity after another, wearying herself in the hunt, but from none did she see the Lees’ cabin and Granny’s home. And the more she ran, the more she became completely turned around. The sun was low in the west. It was bitter cold and she felt tired. Worst of all, she was in the land of the unknown white folk who called you “nigger,” and who went their way and wanted you to go yours. How could she ask her way of them? She walked briskly along the road again, searching for a house where a colored family lived. Indeed, there were such houses, but their occupants were snuggled over their fires, and did not come out and show their friendly dark faces to the little colored girl. Only a dog rushed at her. She thought at first it was the one that had barked when she came over the hill, but this was an ugly cur that snapped at her heels, and caused her to run, it mattered not in what direction, so that she left it behind. When she took note again of her surroundings the sun was dropping into a dark cloud near the horizon. She was familiar now with the short twilight of the South, and she knew that night would soon be upon her. She must be brave and knock at one of these houses to ask the way. Her training led her to choose the most pretentious one in sight, a large, square, unpainted, frame house. And again her training sent her to the front door where she knocked timidly. The door was opened almost immediately, as though someone had been passing through the hall, and a high-pitched voice bade her enter. “Whose child are you?” the voice said. “I’m Aunt Ellen’s granddaughter,” answered Hazel, knowing enough to call her grandmother by that familiar title, “and I’ve lost my way. Can you please tell me how to get back to her house?” “Sister,” the white woman called shrilly, and another woman appeared at an open door at Hazel’s left, “here’s Aunt Ellen’s child come to ask her way, and if the little nigger didn’t knock at the front door!” “You don’t say so, Jane,” said Sister.