service. All of the potatoes were not peeled when she was ready
for them, but her mother's explanation was that it seemed a pity to
peel potatoes because there was so much waste in that method. It
really was better to cook them in the skins. Judith kissed her and
laughed.

"Another time we'll cook them in their jackets, Mumsy dear, but I
cleared enough money this morning to afford to waste a few potato
peelings. If I have a week of such luck, I'll have to get in more
supplies. The girls in this county are just eating up my vanishing
cream and my liquid powder that won't rub off. I've made a great hit
with my anti-kink lotion with the poor colored people. Half the female
world is trying to get curled and the other half trying to get
uncurled. I have got rid of dozens and dozens of marcel wavers, the
steel kind that must dig into you fearfully at night, and bottle after
bottle of that quince seed lotion, warranted to keep hair in curl for
an all-day picnic, where it usually rains, and, if it doesn't, you
fall in the creek to even up."

"Judy, you take my breath away with such talk and such goings on. I
can't bear to think of your selling things to negroes. There is no
telling what might happen to you if you don't look out."

Mrs. Buck had an instinctive dislike for the colored race. She never
trusted them and was opposed even to employing them for farm work. She
preferred the most disreputable poor white to the best negro. It was a
prejudice inherited from her father and mother, who on first coming to
Kentucky had done much talking about the down-trodden blacks, but
being unable to understand them had never been able to get along with
them.

Old Dick Buck had said of Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Knight, "They've got
mighty high ideas about negroes but they ain't got a bit of use for a
nigger."

Judith shared none of this prejudice. She liked colored people and
they liked her and respected her. As she went speeding along the
roads in her little blue car, there was never a darkey old or young
who did not wish her well and bow low to her friendly greeting. Only
that morning she had given a lift to a bent old man who was on his way
to Mr. Big Josh Bucknor's, and thereby saved him many a weary mile.

"I'd take you all the way, Uncle Peter, but I can't trust my left hind
tire up that bumpy lane," Judith explained.

"Ain't it the truf, Missy? If Mr. Big Josh would jes stop talkin'
'bout it an' buil' hisse'f a road! He been lowin'