"I'll do what I can," Ellen answered. "Honey," her mammy exclaimed, "it don't seem like we could eber let you leab us. Dis home been you's mo'n our own. But you is white, now, baby, an' you can't be wid colored folks no mo'." "Why can't I if I choose to?" Hertha asked, her mouth quivering. "I want to stay here until I leave. I have to visit that lawyer soon and get my money, and then, I suppose, I'll go somewhere up North. But while I'm in Merryvale I want to be with you." "Baby, I's feared it ain't de right way." "Have you had anything to eat, Sister?" Ellen inquired. "This must have been a terribly exciting day for you. I'll hurry and get supper." Hertha rose to help but her black mother pushed her back into her chair. "You jes' stay hyar while Ellen an' me gits de t'ings." "But I want to work," the white girl insisted. "I don't want you two to do everything." "It ain't much we kin do," the old woman went on as though apologizing for the house, "not much fer an Ogilvie. Miss Hertha Ogilvie, dat's what dey'll call yer. Miss Hertha Ogilvie! Oh, my Lawd!" Hertha rose from the seat into which she had been pushed and began to set the table. But while handling the knives and forks and smoothing the tablecloth into place, she found herself repeating, "Miss Hertha Ogilvie, _Miss_ Hertha Ogilvie, _Miss_"! How the white people had steadily refused to give her that title! No matter how refined she was, how well educated, since she had colored blood she must always hear her first name. But Lee Merryvale had said, "Miss Hertha," and Miss Witherspoon had said, "Miss Ogilvie." "Sister," she said, turning to Ellen with attempted gaiety, "can't we have sugared sweet potatoes to-night to celebrate? You cook them so well. Just think, I'm going to have two thousand dollars. Isn't that rich?" "It depends on how you use it," replied the always practical Ellen. "If you want you can get rid of it quickly enough; but I do hope, Hertha, you'll use some of it for your education." "What do you want me to study?" "You know what I told you the other day, but now you'll have a better chance of success." "You mean dressmaking. I think myself I'll try stenography." It was a wild statement, an exciting jump into an unknown business world. "Why, Hertha," Ellen said in surprise, "I didn't know you had any bent that way." "I haven't, but I believe I should like it. Stenographers work in offices, and have short hours and good wages." "Not colored ones. Oh, I forgot." Ellen lost her composure, and to cover her slip went into the kitchen. There was a knock and Mammy went outside to admit Mr. John Merryvale. He at once entered the room and seeing Hertha walked up to her and took her hand. "My dear," he said, "we have done you a great injustice." "Yes?" Hertha said, questioning.