young man to be cotein' a young lady right out on a front
po'ch widout no chaperoner bein' clost by. Quality folks don't do sech
ez dat. Dat's why I taken my feet in my hand an' come hurryin' back yere
f'um dat grocery sto' where I'd done went to git a bottle of lemon
extractors. I seen yore sister settin' in dat Mistah B. Weil's candy
sto', drinkin' ice-cream sody wid a passel of young folks, an' by dat I
realise' I'd done lef' you 'lone in dis house wid a young man dat's a
stranger yere, an' so I come right back. And yere I is, honey, and yere
I stays. . . . Whut's dat you sayin'? De gen'l'man objec's? He do, do he?"
The far-carrying voice rose shrilly and scornfully. "Well, let him!
Dat's his privilege. Jes' let him keep on objectin' long ez he's a mind
to. 'Tain't gwine 'fluence me none. . . . I don't keer none ef he do heah
me. Mebbe it mout do him some good ef he do heah me. Hit'll do him good,
too, ef he heed me, I lay to dat. Mebbe he ain't been raised de way we
is down yere. Ef so, dat's his misfortune." The voice changed. "Whut
would yore pore daid mother say ef she knowed I wuz neglectin' my plain
duty to you two lone chillen? Think I gwine run ary chancet of havin'
you two gals talked about by all de low-down pore w'ite trash
scandalisers in dis town? Well, I ain't, an' dat's flat. No, sir-ree,
honey! You mout jes' ez well run 'long back out dere on dat front po'ch,
'ca'se I'm tellin' you I ain't gwine stir nary inch f'um whar I is twell
yore sister git back yere."

Beaten and discomfited, with one hand up to a burning cheek, Emmy Lou
returned to her young man. On his face was a queer smile.

"Did--did you hear what she said?" she asked, bending over him.

"Not being deaf I couldn't well help hearing. I imagine the people next
door heard it, too, and are no doubt now enjoying the joke of it."

"Oh, I know she's impossible," admitted Emmy Lou, repeating her lament
of a little while before, but taking care even in her mortification to
keep her voice discreetly down. "There's no use trying to do anything
with her. We've tried and tried and tried, but she just will have her
way. She doesn't seem to understand that we've grown up--Mildred and I.
She still wants to boss us just as she did when we were children. And
she grows more crotchety and more exacting every day."

"And I--poor benighted Yank that I am--came down here filled with a
great and burning sympathy for the down-trodden African." Harvey said
thi