More E. K. Means / Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That This Second Book, Like the First, Needs No Title

by E. K. Means

Diada handed back the paper-cutter, but she kept her eyes upon it covetously.

“Whut’s de matter wid dis coon, Mis’ Mildred?” Hopey wanted to know.

“She’s a stranger from a strange land, Hopey,” Mrs. Gaitskill replied. “She doesn’t understand our ways.”

“She sho’ is strange,” Hopey affirmed with deep conviction. “Look at her eyes an’ years an’ toofs an’ nose! Look at her stomick—it don’t sag down correck an’ it don’t stick out at de right place——”

“That will do, Hopey!” Mrs. Gaitskill said sharply. “You must not comment on the personal appearance of your guest——”

“She sho’ is a guess—Mis’ Mildred. She’s got me guessin’!”

“Place a chair by the window, Hopey,” Mrs. Gaitskill said. “I’ll keep Diada with me.”

“Which?” Hopey howled. “You gwine let dat coon set in yo’ boodwar in one dese gold cheers?”

Hopey placed a rocking-chair by the window and motioned Diada to sit down.

“Set easy, Diader!” she commanded sharply. “Yo’ whole hide couldn’t hold as much money as dat cheer costed. An’ do yo’ manners, nigger! You is de onlies’ coon whutever set down in ole Mis’ Mildred’s settin’-room!”