noise," he said in a peculiarly
penetrating whisper, "but what the dickens do you do after you find your
book?"

It is always a pleasure to be placed in the superior position of an
imparter of knowledge, and Hertha, unbending from her dignity, found
herself whispering instructions.

Once put on the right path, the youth showed no further shyness, and was
soon talking familiarly with the librarian who equipped him with a card.

"It's all hunky," he explained, coming back to Hertha. "She gave me the
book and as long as you think it's good I'm going to read it through.
I'm not much on reading," he added as though apologizing for his new
taste. "Never entered a library before, but there ain't such a lot to do
of a Sunday."

Hertha nodded but did not look up, and after some minutes of aimless
wandering the young man went out.

She found herself thinking of him after he had gone. His type was not
unfamiliar. The tall, lank figure, the yellowish skin, looking as though
indigestion lurked around the corner, the hard, narrow mouth--white men
like this had been customary figures in her Southern life. They were the
sort who monopolized four places in the train, lolling back on one seat
and putting their feet up on another. More than once, on a street car,
she and Ellen had been obliged to stand when such a man, quite oblivious
of whether or not he usurped the jim-crow section, had taken his lazy
comfort. But a person of this type would be courteous to a white girl,
would be glad to sacrifice his pleasure to do her a kindness. She had
recognized at once that he was from the South, and her speech had
proclaimed to him her birthplace. But what if he had seen her when she
was colored? She found the blood rush to her face at the thought. Then,
remembering Mammy's injunction, she grew calm again. It was for her
to-day, in New York, to live only in the white world.

Going to the shelves she selected a book to take home, and then as the
librarian was making ready to close, pushed at the outside door, which
was a little stiff in opening, and walked into the street.

Into the street? Oh, no, into Heaven!

Everywhere about her white crystals were falling through the air--on her
hat, on her coat, on her upturned face. As she looked overhead they came
in multitudes, like a soft curtain. They made a carpet at her feet, and
as far as she could see down the street they dropped one after another,
millions upon millions, shimmering golden