Americy had remembered the chords from the last teaching although she was shy to sing the song through before Lethe’s hostile presence. She hummed the tune, sitting on the edge of the bed. Theodosia glanced down then and saw the small frayed foot-mat under Americy’s feet and saw that the room was cluttered with poor, ill-used things, a chair rudely mended, another chair that had lost its under-structure and was propped upon a small box. The walls had been roughly plastered and were hung with ugly and useless bric-à-brac, cast-away ornaments from the homes of the whites. A red plush couch behind the door was neatly laid with ironed clothing. “Lethe sang it along with me last night,” Americy said. “It goes a sight better if two sing. Lethe can sing a right smart better’n I can nohow. Lethe can sing.” “Come on, Lethe, and sing,” Theodosia said. “Americy says you can sing. Come on.” “I can’t no such thing,” Lethe said, but her manner was more warm. She moved away toward the small fireplace, her hands now folded under her bosom, her mind set upon some pleasant inner sense of herself, her steps slow and aimless. “I can’t sing so fine as Americy makes out.” Lethe went into the other room of the cabin and did not return. Theodosia sang the song with Americy and then showed her two chords more, and tried to teach her to tune her instrument. “I’ll pay you money too for the work,” she said. “How’d I ever come to forget that?” Americy seemed aimless and pale after the passion of the older woman. While Americy struggled with the chords a man came in at the door, a strong dark man in the prime of life. He glanced a moment toward Americy as he stood by the closed door and became slightly deferential when his glance fell upon Theodosia, but his manner was familiar as he walked across the floor and took some small thing from the bureau, as he passed into the inner room. “You don’t need to pay no money,” Americy said. “We’ll have it like we said we would.” “Do you and Lethe live here? Nobody else?” Theodosia asked. “Me and Lethe. And Ross.” “What’s Lethe’s name? Is Lethe married?” “Her name is the same as mine is, Froman. That’s her name. Lethe Froman. Or she goes by the name of Lethe Ross.” Theodosia went soon after. She left Americy standing by the table picking at the delicate laces of the garments with pleased scrutiny. * * * * *