per."

Hertha rose to help but her black mother pushed her back into her chair.
"You jes' stay hyar while Ellen an' me gits de t'ings."

"But I want to work," the white girl insisted. "I don't want you two to
do everything."

"It ain't much we kin do," the old woman went on as though apologizing
for the house, "not much fer an Ogilvie. Miss Hertha Ogilvie, dat's what
dey'll call yer. Miss Hertha Ogilvie! Oh, my Lawd!"

Hertha rose from the seat into which she had been pushed and began to
set the table. But while handling the knives and forks and smoothing the
tablecloth into place, she found herself repeating, "Miss Hertha
Ogilvie, _Miss_ Hertha Ogilvie, _Miss_"!

How the white people had steadily refused to give her that title! No
matter how refined she was, how well educated, since she had colored
blood she must always hear her first name. But Lee Merryvale had said,
"Miss Hertha," and Miss Witherspoon had said, "Miss Ogilvie."

"Sister," she said, turning to Ellen with attempted gaiety, "can't we
have sugared sweet potatoes to-night to celebrate? You cook them so
well. Just think, I'm going to have two thousand dollars. Isn't that
rich?"

"It depends on how you use it," replied the always practical Ellen. "If
you want you can get rid of it quickly enough; but I do hope, Hertha,
you'll use some of it for your education."

"What do you want me to study?"

"You know what I told you the other day, but now you'll have a better
chance of success."

"You mean dressmaking. I think myself I'll try stenography."

It was a wild statement, an exciting jump into an unknown business
world.

"Why, Hertha," Ellen said in surprise, "I didn't know you had any bent
that way."

"I haven't, but I believe I should like it. Stenographers work in
offices, and have short hours and good wages."

"Not colored ones. Oh, I forgot." Ellen lost her composure, and to cover
her slip went into the kitchen.

There was a knock and Mammy went outside to admit Mr. John Merryvale. He
at once entered the room and seeing Hertha walked up to her and took her
hand. "My dear," he said, "we have done you a great injustice."

"Yes?" Hertha said, questioning.

She was angry at his coming, but his kindly manner made it difficult for
her to maintain her anger. He crossed over to where her mammy stood,
saying gravely: "Aunt Maggie, it seems like you were the only one who
did the right thing in all this tangle. You and your husband opened your