“I was lost, Scip, and I asked Miss Jane and Miss Laura the way home, and I had to wait until Marty could come home with me.” “Reckon I can leave you now,” Marty said, and with an interchange of good-nights she turned back. “Was Granny worried, Scip?” Hazel asked. “Did she send you for me?” “In course she were worried. You hadn’t ought to be out at night alone.” Hazel explained what had happened. They hurried over the road, and once she stumbled and caught Scip’s hand. “How cold you are!” she exclaimed; and noticed that he had only a ragged jacket and that his feet were bare. “It was kind of you to come, Scip,” she began, and then she saw Granny on the road in front of her cabin, and ran into her arms. “Won’t you come in and get warm?” she called to the boy; but he answered “No,” and went on his way. Granny heard the whole story that night before the fire. “I tried to remember what you said about knowing them by their fruits,” Hazel explained seriously, “and they were kind to me and gave me food and sent me home with Marty. But they hurt my feelings dreadfully. They said I was impertinent when I said ‘Miss Fairmount,’ instead of ‘Miss Jane,’ and at home, really truly, it would have been impertinent to have said Miss Jane; and,” the child hung her head, “they called me ‘nigger.’” Granny’s strong, kindly face grew sad. “You’s a hard road to travel, dearie, as you goes through life with your pretty face and your gentle ways. I’s feared the stones will often bruise your feet and the briars tear your hands. Shall I give you a token to keep in your heart as you go down the road? I learned it to your father when he was a boy and he never forgot it.” “Please tell me, Granny, and I will not forget.” “Watch _how_ folks says things, and not _what_ they says. Now, Miss Jane, she didn’t do that to-day, and she hurt my baby girl. She ain’t quality and that’s a fact. She were thinking of the words when you said ‘Miss Jane’ and not the feeling in your heart and voice. Don’t you make the mistake she made.” Hazel was silent for a few seconds. When she answered her voice was unsteady. “Nobody knows how angry I am, right through, when anyone calls me a nigger.” “And yet, honey, I’s heard a forlorn, ignorant mammy say it to her baby when it sounded like she were whispering to the Lord. It’s an ugly word. I hates it, too. But there’s white folks as don’t mean any harm by it. You fell in good hands to-day, and I thank the Lord for it. There’s those as might have spoken slick enough but as would have been rough in their hearts.” Hazel gave Granny a hug. “I do love you, Granny,” she said with a little sob, “and I’ll forget all the horrid things to-day, and remember the coffee and the fire and Miss Laura showing me those three poor little stuffed birds. But Granny;” brightening, “what do you think was in their parlor? Why, right there in the company room in that great big house they had a bed!” CHAPTER X SPRING