“She did at last The title of the story is The Princess Who Didn’t Know Her Heart.”
“Go on.”
“That’s all.”
“It’s very short.—That’s Miss Self-Reliance you’re holding, Meester Deek. I don’t know whether she likes it.” And again she said in a drowsy whisper, “I don’t know whether she likes it.”
They both fell silent, staring straight before them into the darkness.
“You don’t mind if I close my eyes, Meester Deek? I’m really tired.”
He answered her with a pressure of the hand. She drooped nearer. “You are good to me.”
In a husky contented little voice, she began to sing to herself. It was a darkie song about a pickaninny who had discovered that she was different from the rest of the world because the white children refused to play with her. To Teddy it seemed Desire’s pathetic way of explaining to him the loneliness of her childhood. At the end of each verse the colored mammy crooned comfortingly:
“So, honey, jest play in your own backyard,
Don’t mind what dem white chiles say.”