em do?"

"What are we goin' to do?" echoed Kitty helplessly. "I 'd go out ef I
thought I could find anythin' to work at."

"Don't you go anywhaih, child. It 'ud only be worse. De niggah men dat
ust to be bowin' an' scrapin' to me an' tekin' off dey hats to me
laughed in my face. I met Minty--an' she slurred me right in de street.
Dey 'd do worse fu' you."

In the midst of the conversation a knock came at the door. It was a
messenger from the "House," as they still called Oakley's home, and he
wanted them to be out of the cottage by the next afternoon, as the new
servants were coming and would want the rooms.

The message was so curt, so hard and decisive, that Fannie was startled
out of her grief into immediate action.

"Well, we got to go," she said, rising wearily.

"But where are we goin'?" wailed Kitty in affright. "There 's no place
to go to. We have n't got a house. Where 'll we go?"

"Out o' town someplace as fur away from this damned hole as we kin
git." The boy spoke recklessly in his anger. He had never sworn before
his mother before.

She looked at him in horror. "Joe, Joe," she said, "you 're mekin' it
wuss. You 're mekin' it ha'dah fu' me to baih when you talk dat a-way.
What you mean? Whaih you think Gawd is?"

Joe remained sullenly silent. His mother's faith was too stalwart for
his comprehension. There was nothing like it in his own soul to
interpret it.

"We 'll git de secon'-han' dealah to tek ouah things to-morrer, an' then
we 'll go away some place, up No'th maybe."

"Let 's go to New York," said Joe.

"New Yo'k?"

They had heard of New York as a place vague and far away, a city that,
like Heaven, to them had existed by faith alone. All the days of their
lives they had heard of it, and it seemed to them the centre of all the
glory, all the wealth, and all the freedom of the world. New York. It
had an alluring sound. Who would know them there? Who would look down
upon them?

"It 's a mighty long ways off fu' me to be sta'tin' at dis time o'
life."

"We want to go a long ways off."

"I wonder what pa would think of it if he was here," put in Kitty.

"I guess he 'd think we was doin' the best we could."

"Well, den, Joe," said his mother, her voice trembling with emotion at
the daring step they were about to take, "you set down an' write a
lettah to yo' pa, an' tell him what we goin' to do, an'
to-morrer--to-morrer--we 'll sta't."

Something akin to joy came into the boy's hear