Madeline Scranton.
"Who's this Scranton broad?" queried Matthew in a whisper, cutting a precautionary glance at his wife.
"A sweet Georgia brown," exclaimed Bunny enthusiastically.
"No!" gasped Matthew, incredulous.
"She ain't no Caucasian!" Bunny replied.
"She must be the last black gal in the country," Matthew remarked, glancing enviously at his friend. "How come she didn't get white, too?"
"Well," Bunny replied, a slight hint of pride in his voice. "She's a race patriot. She's funny that way."
"Well, for cryin' out loud!" exclaimed Matthew, scratching his head and sort of half grinning in a bewildered way. "What kind o' sheba is that?"
Old man Givens came over to where they were standing, the telegram in his hand and an expression of serenity now on his face.
"Boys," he announced, "it looks like it's healthier down here right now than it is back there in Georgia."