of everything and everybody else, frightened her. When she ventured out alone she always had the feeling as though some huge hand had picked her up and thrown her into a raging torrent. And always she regained the haven of home with a prayer of thanksgiving in her heart that she had not been killed in the bustle by one of the wagons or trucks that rushed down upon one with such terrifying speed. Used to the somnolence of New Orleans and the lesser traffic of Atlanta, she often wondered why she had ever chosen Philadelphia as her city of refuge—“City of Brotherly Love” was certainly an anachronism to a stranger like herself.
She was happy with the Mannings but her inaction worried her. Except for a few dollars she was now completely without funds. She had had to buy a number of things for the baby but even though she had made most of his clothes herself, cloth and thread and buttons cost. She did not tell the Mannings of her worries, for they invariably sought to dismiss them from her mind. But she had overheard snatches of their conversation when they did not know she