The bright white light stunned her, and she fell off
the stool. She felt herself tumbling, tumbling. It was surely
taking a long time for her to land on the rug and find her
feet! It seemed to the child that ages had passed before the
beautiful boots were firm and flat on solid ground.
And there was singing again . . . it was a different tune.
The Colored choir had come back! But how could she
hear them from the back parlor? The child was confused.
She rubbed her eyes. She was no longer inside the wide
front door. She was outside.
“What child is this . . . ” the voices were singing. The
child blinked. A group of colored people was standing on
the street across from her. At first they seemed to be the
same as before—joyful brown faces, bright clothes, wel-
coming voices.
Then she narrowed her eyes. The clothes were differ-
ent . . . she could see some of the grown women’s knees!
And the noises around . . . automobiles like she had never
seen before whizzed past. There were buildings in the dis-
tance with huge pictures painted on their walls. And those
buildings! They were towers of brick and stone and glass!
She looked up high and saw bright blue sky.
“Honey, where are you supposed to be? Are you
alone?” Someone was speaking kindly to her.
The child lowered her chin slowly.
A Colored woman and a man were crossing the street.
The man had a curly black beard circling his honey-brown
face. The woman had almost no hair at all, but she had
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