“Reckon,” said June, spreading the blanket out proudly, “someone done lose that as didn’t mean to, Mas’ Wayne, ’cause it’s a powerful nice blanket, ain’ it?” Wayne listlessly agreed and June dropped it through the window which was their means of ingress and egress. “It’s goin’ to keep us fine an’ warm tonight, that little ol’ blanket is. Tomorrow I’m goin’ to find me a bed to go with it! You hungry enough to eat, Mas’ Wayne?” Wayne shook his head. “I don’t want any supper,” he replied. “Don’ want no supper! How come? What-all you have for your dinner, please?” “I had enough,” answered Wayne. “You go ahead and have your supper, June.” June snorted. “Mighty likely, ain’ it?” he demanded scathingly. “Reckon you can see this nigger eatin’ all by his lonely. No, sir, Mas’ Wayne, you-all’s goin’ to eat, too. If you don’ there ain’ goin’ to be no supper for nobody.” “I tell you I’m not hungry,” replied Wayne irritably. “Besides, if you must know, I haven’t any money.” “Say you ain’? You’ve got forty cents. How come that ain’ enough money to buy us some supper?” “That’s your money, not mine,” said Wayne bitterly. “You earned it. I didn’t. I’m not going to live off you. You go get your supper and let me alone.” “I earned it for all of us,” said June earnestly. “Reckon you paid a heap of money to buy victuals for me, Mas’ Wayne, all the way up from Sleepersville, didn’ you, sir?” “That’s different,” muttered the other. “How come it’s different? Please, sir, don’ you be uppity an’ proud. Ever since we was little fellers together, Mas’ Wayne, you done give me money; two bits here, an’ two bits there, an’ a dime yonder. How come I can’ pay it back to you?” “A gentleman doesn’t--doesn’t do that,” returned Wayne stubbornly. “You mean ’cause you’re white an’ I’m black?” “Never mind what I mean. Anyway, I’m not hungry, so shut up.” June obeyed, scuffling his shoes in the cinders underfoot and staring sadly at the sunset glow beyond the factory roofs to the west. Sam had found a very old and very dry bone somewhere and was pretending that it was quite new and delicious. He even growled once or twice, although there was no other dog in sight, perhaps to convince himself that he really had discovered a prize. Minutes passed and the western sky faded from crimson to yellow, and from yellow to gray. Finally Wayne stole a look at June. “You’d better be going,” he growled. “I ain’ aimin’ to go, Mas’ Wayne,” replied June earnestly. “Reckon I ain’ no hungrier than you is.” “I don’t care whether you are or not,” declared the other angrily. “I say you’re to go and get some supper. Now you go.” June shook his head. “Not without you come along,” he answered. “You do as I tell you, June!” “I’m wishin’ to, Mas’ Wayne, but I jus’ can’, sir.” “Well, you just will! If you don’t start right along I’ll whale you, Junius!” “Yes, sir, Mas’ Wayne, you can do that, but you-all can’ make me eat no supper. That’s somethin’ you _can’_ do.”