white woman.” And he threw a startled look at Mary and hurried by. She was perplexed and upset and stood hesitating a moment when she heard a well-known voice:
“Why, Miss Taylor, I was alarmed for you; you really must be careful about trusting yourself with these half drunken Negroes.”
‚ÄúWouldn‚Äôt it be better not to give them drink, Mr. ¬ÝCresswell?‚Äù
“And let your neighbor sell them poison at all hours? No, Miss Taylor.” They joined the others, and all were turning toward the carriage when a figure coming down the road attracted them.
‚ÄúQuite picturesque,‚Äù observed Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, looking at the tall, slim girl swaying toward them with a piled basket of white cotton poised lightly on her head. ‚ÄúWhy,‚Äù in abrupt recognition, ‚Äúit is our Venus of the Roadside, is it not?‚Äù
Mary saw it was Zora. Just then, too, Zora caught sight of them, and for a moment hesitated, then came on; the carriage was in front of the store, and she was bound for the store. A moment Mary hesitated, too, and then turned resolutely to greet her. But Zora’s eyes did not see her. After one look at that sorrow-stricken face, Mary turned away.
Colonel Cresswell stood by the door, his hat on, his hands in his pockets.
“Well, Zora, what have you there?” he asked.
“Cotton, sir.”
Harry Cresswell bent over it.
“Great heavens! Look at this cotton!” he ejaculated. His father approached. The cotton lay in silken handfuls, clean and shimmering,