a was too tired to
notice much, and she was dozing wearily when she felt a touch on the arm
and found the porter in the seat beside her with his arm thrown
familiarly behind her along the top of the back. She rose abruptly to
her feet and he started up.

"I beg pardon," he said, grinning.

Zora sat slowly down as he got up and left. She determined to sleep no
more. Yet a vast vision sank on her weary spirit--the vision of a dark
cloud that dropped and dropped upon her, and lay as lead along her
straining shoulders. She must lift it, she knew, though it were big as a
world, and she put her strength to it and groaned as the porter cried in
the ghostly morning light:

"Atlanta! All change!"

Away yonder at the school near Toomsville, Miss Smith sat waiting for
the coming of Zora, absently attending the duties of the office. Dark
little heads and hands bobbed by and soft voices called:

"Miss Smith, I wants a penny pencil."

"Miss Smith, is yo' got a speller fo' ten cents?"

"Miss Smith, mammy say please lemme come to school this week and she'll
sho' pay Sata'day."

Yet the little voices that summoned her back to earth were less
clamorous than in other years, for the school was far from full, and
Miss Smith observed the falling off with grave eyes. This condition was
patently the result of the cotton corner and the subsequent
manipulation. When cotton rose, the tenants had already sold their
cotton; when cotton fell the landlords squeezed the rations and lowered
the wages. When cotton rose again, up went the new Spring rent
contracts. So it was that the bewildered black serf dawdled in listless
inability to understand. The Cresswells in their new wealth, the
Maxwells and Tollivers in the new pinch of poverty, stretched long arms
to gather in the tenants and their children. Excuse after excuse came to
the school.

"I can't send the chilluns dis term, Miss Smith; dey has to work."

"Mr. Cresswell won't allow Will to go to school this term."

"Mr. Tolliver done put Sam in the field."

And so Miss Smith contemplated many empty desks.

Slowly a sort of fatal inaction seized her. The school went on; daily
the dark little cloud of scholars rose up from hill and vale and settled
in the white buildings; the hum of voices and the busy movements of
industrious teachers filled the day; the office work went on
methodically; but back of it all Miss Smith sat half hopeless. It cost
five thousand a year to run the school,