d
fuh killin' fo' men!" She stood staring at him with white eyes. Then she
urged, "Now, look heah, Peter, come along an' eat yo' supper."

"No, I really need a walk. I won't walk through Niggertown. I'll walk
out in the woods."

"I jes made some salmon coquettes fuh you whut'll spile ef you don' eat
'em now."

"I didn't know you were making croquettes," said Peter, with polite
interest.

"Well, I is. I gotta can o' salmon fum Miss Mollie Brownell she'd opened
an' couldn't quite use. I doctered 'em up wid a lil vinegar an' sody,
an' dey is 'bout as pink as dey ever wuz."

A certain uneasiness and annoyance came over Peter at this persistent
use of unwholesome foods.

"Look here, Mother, you're not using old canned goods that have been
left over?"

The old negress stood looking at him in silence, but lost her coaxing
expression.

"I've told and told you about using any tainted or impure foods that the
white people can't eat."

"Well, whut ef you is?"

"If it's too bad for them, it's too bad for you!"

Caroline made a careless gesture.

"Good Lawd, boy! I don' 'speck to eat whut's good fuh me! All I says is,
'Grub, keep me alive. Ef you do dat, you done a good day's wuck.'"

Peter was disgusted and shocked at his mother's flippancy. Modern
colleges are atheistic, but they do exalt three gods,--food,
cleanliness, and exercise. Now here was Peter's mother blaspheming one
of his trinity.

"I wish you 'd let me know when you want anything Mother. I'll get it
fresh for you." His words were filial enough, but his tone carried his
irritation.

The old negress turned back to the kitchen.

"Huh, boy! you been fotch up on lef'-overs," she said, and disappeared
through the door.

Peter walked to the gate, let himself out, and started off on his
constitutional. His tiff with his mother renewed all his nervousness and
sense of failure. His litany of mistakes renewed their dolor in his
mind.

An autumn wind was blowing, and long plumes of dust whisked up out of
the curving street and swept over the ill-kept yards, past the cabins,
and toward the sere fields and chromatic woods. The wind beat at the
brown man; the dust whispered against his clothes, made him squint his
eyes to a crack and tickled his nostrils at each breath.

When Peter had gone two or three hundred yards, he became aware that
somebody was walking immediately behind him. Tump Pack popped into his
mind. He looked over his shoulder and then turn