Hazel recognized the two white ladies who had stopped at Granny’s house on their drive, and had asked her so many questions. She pressed her lips tightly together at the word “nigger,” but then she had expected it, and anyway they knew where Granny lived. “I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said in her most dignified manner, “and if you will please explain to me how to get to Granny’s, I will go. I came over the hill, but it is getting so dark I am afraid I couldn’t return that way.” If she imagined she would be permitted to leave so easily she was mistaken. “Come by the kitchen,” Miss Jane said, and led her to the rear of the house. Hazel went unwillingly, but the bright fire in the stove made her give a little cry of pleasure. “Warm yourself, child,” Miss Jane said kindly. “Rest your hat and coat, and sit by the fire. How much might that coat cost now?” she asked, examining the garment that Hazel obediently took off. “I don’t know,” Hazel replied. “It was given to me.” “Who might give you a coat like that?” the other sister queried. “A friend of my father’s. You know my father is dead,” Hazel added. “Yes, I know, honey,” Miss Jane said sympathetically. “He was a right nice boy. He used to come here to sell my mother vegetables. He’d fix everything to sell as neat and nice, and he’d tell about the doings around his way until we’d almost die laughing. I’ve often wondered if he took to gardening up North.” “We had a tiny garden where we lived,” Hazel answered eagerly, “and father worked in it in the early morning before he went to business. He was a lawyer, you know.” “A lawyer?” “Yes, ma’am, a lawyer.” “A nigger lawyer! That beats all. Marty,” calling into the darkness, “did you know Aunt Ellen’s son, George, used to be a nigger lawyer?” “Yes, Miss Jane; I sure knowed.” “This is his child. Make her a cup of warm coffee and give her some biscuits. She’s come a long way.” The coffee, an unfamiliar but delectable drink, warmed not only Hazel’s body, but her heart. The two sisters did not leave the kitchen, but plied her with questions which she answered, trying to remember what Granny had told her. Here were two women living alone in a big house with few neighbors; they were giving her food and she ought to talk if they wanted her to. So she told them about her former home, and the flat in Hammond Street, and her mother’s present work. “Seems to me your father ought to have left something if he had a practice,” the younger sister, whose name was Laura, remarked. “He did,” Hazel answered quickly; “but mother won’t touch anything but the interest, and you know what seems a good deal of money makes a very little interest. She spent some to send me down here, and she’s planning to spend more to send me to college.” “What will you do with all your learning?” Miss Jane asked. “I’ll teach.” “Niggers?”