her head at Annie Cook and smiled.
In the back parlor, the mistress met the child’s direct
eyes with surprise. “Oh!” Mistress said.
“Come right here, I have a stool for you to sit on,” said
the picture-taking man.
“Girl, I’ll have you know that as soon as this foolishness
is over, you will remove that dress from your horrid little
black body and wash it!” The mistress’s voice was rising
again.
“Smile,” the red-haired picture-taking man told the
child.
But she could not. She looked straight at the camera.
“Oh, William, this is so useless! She’s nothing!”
“Now, you know there’s going to be a flash on the
count of three . . .”
“Miss Maddie, if that lil’ heifer done tol’ you somthin’
’bout me, she’s a lie . . .” Annie Cook was hovering in the
doorway.
“One . . .”
The child thought with longing of the Colored choir
outside. Where had their beautiful voices gone?
“Two . . .”
She wanted, at that moment, with her whole heart, to
belong
somewhere.
“Three!”
She wished and she prayed her need with her whole
heart.
FLASH!
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