"One Spring," I says, "One world—one God—one life—one future. Wouldn't you think we could match ourselves up?"
But when I got in my little house, I looked around on the homely inside of it—that always helps me to think how much better things can be, when we really know how. And I says:
"Oh, God, we here in America got up a terrible question for you to help us settle, didn't we? Well, help us! And help us to see, whatever's the way to settle anything, that giving the cold shoulder and the uplifted nose to any of the creatures you've made ain't the way to settle nothing. Amen."
Next morning I was standing in my door-way, breathing in the fresh, gold air, when in at the gate came that colored man of Mis' Fernandez's, and he had a big bouquet of roses. Not roses like we in the village often see. They were green-house bred.
"Mis' Fernandez's son done come home las' night and brung 'em," says the man.
"Her son," I says, "from college?"
"No'm," says the man. "F'om the war."
"From the what?" I says.
"F'om the war," he says over. "F'om U'pe."
He must have thought I was crazy. For a minute I stared at him, then I says "Glory be!" and I began to laugh. Then I told him to tell Mis' Fernandez that I'd be over in half an hour to thank her myself for the flowers, and in half an hour I was going up to her front door. I had to make sure.