MIGHTY GOOD TO ME
51
why should she feel any restlessness because a church hell was
ringing urgently. She didn't need to go. She sat where she was,
with harmony about her as a turtle always has his roof and is
excused from seeking it.
Suddenly I noticed that a complete difference had crept into
her way of speaking to me from what my .week had begun to make
sound customary. Her first remark had been "Yas sir" when I'd
informed her that the day was fine, since when the Sirs had utterly
dropped out. The reason I noticed suddenly is that, leaning on
her hospitable gate, I had for a while forgotten that we were both
not simply people. Perhaps I should mention that actually I have
never yet been knighted so that in the first days there this bombard–
ment of Sirs had fallen on my ears a bit strangely.
She too may have noticed something not quite usual about
the way we talked. Anyway we were now partly emerged from
the adoration of her mystery and it was time we turned to what–
ever should he next. She removed her pipe again to speak, and said
then, unemphatically, what I was surprised to hear, what seemed
so revealing that I don't recall exactly how we parted or know
what other explanation of our tone occurred to her.
"And you, Mister," her question was: "Are you a Negro?"
