“Well? And can’t you see that our guest needs some
warm drink? You tell Annie Cook to send in a plate of
sweets, too!”
The tall, red-haired man winked at the child as she
jumped from the low, round stool where she was sitting.
She took a chance and offered him a quick grin in return.
“How dare you get familiar with my company!” Mis-
tress screeched, and a dainty pump flew past the child’s
head, almost landing on the hearth. The child darted her
eyes to the fireplace, and the man laughed in genuine en-
joyment as he bent to retrieve the shoe.
The child knew the mistress would take this as humili-
ation and make her pay dearly for it later on. It was almost
worth it, she thought, crossing the soft wool carpet into the
hall. That man had a laugh like music, and his eyes were
like clear blue skies. She heard him speaking in low tones
to the high squeaks of Mistress’s complaints.
In the wide center hall, the child heard singing. It was
an odd, welcoming thing, to hear singing in the middle of
a December morning. Something made her bare feet move
toward the front of the house rather than the rear, toward
the kitchen. She drew back the lace curtain to see a group
of people huddled across the street.
“’Tis the season to be jolly . . .” they were singing. The
child pressed her small nose against the cold glass.
They were Colored people! She stared. They were
Colored people, just like she was, and they had on pretty
and plaid wool coats and bright hats and mufflers. They
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