Peter, in turn, looked down at them with a feeling that they had
materialized out of nothing.
"What did you say?" he asked vaguely.
The boy was suddenly overcome with the excessive shyness of negro
children, and barely managed to whisper:
"I--I ast wh-who you wuz a-talkin' to."
"Was I talking?"
The little negro nodded, undecided whether to stand his ground or flee.
Peter touched the child's crisp hair.
"I was talking to myself," he said, and moved forward again.
The child instantly gained confidence at the slight caress, took a fold
of Peter's trousers in his hand for friendliness, and the two trudged on
together.
"Wh-whut you talkin' to yo' se'f for?"
Peter glanced down at the little black head that promised to think up a
thousand questions.
"I was wondering where to go."
"Lawsy! is you los' yo' way?"
He stroked the little head with a rush of self-pity.
"Yes, I have, son; I've completely lost my way."
The child twisted his head around and peered up alongside Peter's arm.
Presently he asked:
"Ain't you Mr.
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