kitchen to dish up the noon dinner for the field hands.
Rebecca took a delicate bite of the steaming pone, and a gulp of buttermilk to allay the heat. Spot sat at his table, his eyes fixed on his corn bread, which was too hot to tackle. Doctor put an imploring paw on his knee, but he did not get his usual pat or word of commendation. Doctor was out of favor with his master for having submitted to the caress of the interloper.
"Do you believe in prayer, Uncle Spot? I mean in the direct answer to prayer. Daddy used to say there was lots of difference in believing in prayer and believing in the direct answer to it."
Mr. Spottswood Taylor had taken a great mouthful of hot corn pone, and Rebecca hoped that was the reason he did not deign a reply to her searching question.
"I used to believe with all my heart," Rebecca rattled on. "After I saw the hyena in Bronx Zoo that I had seen in the movies I began to pray that God would let him loose. I began to pray that God would let all the animals out of Central Park Zoo and the Bronx Zoo, too! I prayed and prayed and I was sure God would answer my prayers. Then, all of a sudden, I began to scream in the night because
