“Sister,” the white woman called shrilly, and another woman appeared at an open door at Hazel’s left, “here’s Aunt Ellen’s child come to ask her way, and if the little nigger didn’t knock at the front door!”
“You don’t say so, Jane,” said Sister.
Hazel recognized the two white ladies who had stopped at Granny’s house on their drive, and had asked her so many questions. She pressed her lips tightly together at the word “nigger,” but then she had expected it, and anyway they knew where Granny lived. “I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said in her most dignified manner, “and if you will please explain to me how to get to Granny’s, I will go. I came over the hill, but it is getting so dark I am afraid I couldn’t return that way.”
If she imagined she would be permitted to leave so easily she was mistaken.
“Come by the kitchen,” Miss Jane said, and led her to the rear of the house.
Hazel went unwillingly, but the bright fire in the stove made her give a little cry of pleasure.
“Warm yourself, child,” Miss Jane said kindly. “Rest your hat and coat, and sit by the fire. How much might that coat cost now?” she asked, examining the garment that Hazel obediently took off.
“I don’t know,” Hazel replied. “It was given to me.”
“Who might give you a coat like that?” the other sister queried.
“A friend of my father’s. You know my father is dead,” Hazel added.