"But, honey, dar's anudder t'ing. Keep us in you' heart, but don' try ter lib in our worl', not at fust. It ain't gwine ter be so easy, allus ter remember as you's white. You can't fergit a lifetime in a day. An' it's mighty mean ter be swingin' fust on one foot, den on de udder, not knowin' whar you stan'. When yer gits yer place firm in de white worl', den yer kin turn back ter look at de black. But not now, dearie, not now." Hertha could not speak, but she nodded her head in acceptance of her exile. "We don't need to worry," Ellen said with a laugh that had a sob in it. "We sha'n't have to wait long. You'll soon stand on both your feet." "I ain't gwine ter de dock," Mammy announced when Ellen in a moment said it was time for them to leave. "I don't wan' no white folks starin' at me an' talkin'; I'se gwine to say good-by hyar in my home. Baby," turning to the child of her adoption, "you's so pretty-like, allus be good." "Yes, Mammy," Hertha promised. "Lay you' head on my breas'. Dere! Lil lamb, you's gwine out inter de worl' alone. But you know de way ter safety. Lobe de Lord Jesus. Don' never forgit Him fer a moment, but keep close ter His bosom." On the dock Miss Witherspoon was fidgeting among the hand-luggage. She looked annoyed when Hertha came up with Ellen. "Oh, here you are," she said. "Don't you think you had better express this bag? No. Why not? But I thought I explained to you that you could express it on the train. However, it doesn't much matter. How many pieces of hand-luggage have you? Two? And you have two other things to carry, your hand-bag and your umbrella. It's always well to count the number of pieces you have and then when you get up from your seat you can go over them--one, two, three, four. Do you see? I'm sorry though that you didn't pack so that you could express one of the bags through." Ellen looked on, feeling that she was only beginning to realize how much of tragedy there was in this good-by. Not even she had appreciated, until she stood there on the dock, how far removed was the world of white and black. There was something terrible and ridiculous in sending her little sister away with a stranger, and denying to her the right to know again the people among whom she had been reared and who had given her the training and the education that made it possible for her so easily to take her place in the white world. "Well, I'm mighty glad I was ambitious," she thought with a rush of pride as she looked at the well-bred, ladylike figure in its stylish traveling dress. "Supposing she'd been handed over to poor white trash!" "Ellen," Hertha whispered, "I'm going to try to make something of myself but I'm more easily discouraged than you." "You must be courageous, Hertha. Go ahead and do things." "I don't know how to do that. But perhaps things will happen."