"Thank 'ee, ma'am." She stumbled weakly off, her uncovered head dizzy from the excitement and the sun. Her lips repeated over and over, "Mah Will! Mah Jim!"
The sudden dark of the storeroom clouded her vision. From body to body she went. Here were the negroes. This bloodied face was like—No. She went on.
At length she found what she sought. Weak from exhaustion and shock, she crumpled up beside the limp warmness that had been her second son.
Here Diana found her, a Diana pale and frightened, her right arm bandaged to the shoulder, blood caked in dusky crimson at the height of her breast. "Mother! Is this.... Jim?"
Stella raised herself drowsily. "Yeh, dis is Jim." She looked at the girl fearfully, a vague horror channelling her face. "Is Will daid too?"
"Will's all right.... You come home with me."
Stella faced the girl when they were outside. "Will all right? Babe all right?"
Diana nodded.
"What's wrong wid yo' arm, girl?"
"Nothin'. A pane of glass scratched it. It's all right."