"
"Do you work for pay?"
"I work to earn a living."
"Same thing, I reckon, and it ain't true. Living just comes free,
like--like sunshine."
"Stuff! Zora, your people must learn to work and work steadily and work
hard--" She stopped, for she was sure Zora was not listening; the far
away look was in her eyes and they were shining. She was beautiful as
she stood there--strangely, almost uncannily, but startlingly beautiful
with her rich dark skin, softly moulded features, and wonderful eyes.
"My people?--my people?" she murmured, half to herself. "Do you know my
people? They don't never work; they plays. They is all little, funny
dark people. They flies and creeps and crawls, slippery-like; and they
cries and calls. Ah, my people! my poor little people! they misses me
these days, because they is shadowy things that sing and smell and bloom
in dark and terrible nights--"
Miss Taylor started up. "Zora, I believe you're crazy!" she cried. But
Zora was looking at her calmly again.
"We'se both crazy, ain't we?" she returned, with a simplicity that left
the teacher helpless.
Miss Taylor hurried out, forgetting her pin. Zora looked it over
leisurely, and tried it on. She decided that she liked it, and putting
it in her pocket, went out too.
School was out but the sun was still high, as Bles hurried from the barn
up the big road beside the soft shadows of the swamp.
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