“I suppose I has, child. But I knows no more when I come into the world than I knows when the Lord ’ll take me out of it. You see, I was sold down here when I was about four year old. That I knows. I can recollect when I first come here. The violets were blooming, and my mistress clapped her hands when she see me picking the little blossoms. That were in the spring of ’46. But whether I were just four, or most five, or only three maybe, I don’t rightly know.” Granny saw the tears standing in Hazel’s eyes. “Your mother?” the child said. “We never found one another; and there’s thousands like that. Every day in the year there was children sent from their folks to the bottom lands. But don’t think about it, sugar. It ain’t no use fretting about what’s past. Howsomever, that’s why I can’t tell whether I’s a Monday or a Tuesday or a Saturday child. The Lord alone can reckon my days.” When Hazel had finished the dishes she went out-of-doors to think over what she had heard. The story of the past stirred her deeply, but had it not also a present import? Granny had never had a birthday, had never known what it was to be the centre of a birthday party, to have a cake with candles, most of all to have the proud feeling that here was a day that belonged to her alone. Could nothing be done about it? Hazel looked up at the clear blue sky and about her at the riot of flowers. What a beautiful time of year for a birthday! So much better than her month of November. Why not give Granny a birthday now? “Scip,” Hazel called excitedly as he met her on the hillside that afternoon. “I’m going to give Granny a birthday party. Will you help?” And she explained Granny’s condition. Scipio listened attentively, only half understanding, for birthdays had never been celebrated in the Lee household. But, of course, he promised to help if Hazel would show him the way; and before they went to their books ways and means were already devised by Hazel’s active mind. That afternoon the little girl was a long time writing her home letter. Some explanation was necessary, and then the admonition to please send them, quick, quick, and as many dozen as she thought right. “Pink and green and blue and yellow and white, please, like the candles I have.” The next question was, who should come to the party? “Only children, I think, Scip,” Hazel said as she discussed it with him. “If I didn’t ask all the grown people those left out would be offended, wouldn’t they?” “I reckon there might be trouble,” Scip answered. “There’ll be you and Tom and Theora--” “That’s enough for we-all,” said Scip as he saw Hazel hesitate. “Jule can stay home and work.” Hazel sighed, but felt relieved. It would be well to have the guests very young so that she could handle them. “And Mammy Smith’s little girl, and Carrie and Johnnie Hunt, that will be enough, and I’ll teach them songs and games.”