she practically lived in the kitchen, although she also reserved a small bedroom for herself and the children.
Come in! Byron cried.
As Mrs. Fox opened the door, whiffs of frying pork-chops and boiled cabbage floated into the room. One of the children clung with a sort of desperation to her ample skirts.
Dere's a gen'mun ter see you, chile, she announced.
Who is it, Mrs. Fox?
Ah doan perzackly recerlec' duh name. It's duh light-coloured gen'mun who comes here frequentlike.
Mr. Sill?
Dat's him. Her pleasant face brightened. Taxis, quit pullin' yo' mammy's skirts. Ah declare dat chil' ain' nebber gwine leab me alone.
Before Dick Sill had removed his overcoat, he blazed forth his news, almost in a tone of defiance.
I'm going white! he announced.
Byron did not speak at once. He didn't know what to say. Presently, he mustered up, Take off your coat, Dick.
Accepting this invitation, his friend seated himself on the bed and nervously lighted a cigarette.
They make us do it, Byron, he insisted, still in an aggressive tone which sounded apologetic. They
