‚ÄúYes, Miss; certainly I‚Äôll fetch you a lunch‚ÅÝ‚Äîplenty of time.‚Äù And he did. It did not look clean but Zora was ravenous.
The white smoker now had few occupants, but the white train crew proceeded to use the colored coach as a lounging-room and sleeping-car.
There was no passenger except Zora.
They took off their coats, stretched themselves on the seats, and exchanged jokes; but Zora was too tired to notice much, and she was dozing wearily when she felt a touch on the arm and found the porter in the seat beside her with his arm thrown familiarly behind her along the top of the back.
She rose abruptly to her feet and he started up.
“I beg pardon,” he said, grinning.
Zora sat slowly down as he got up and left. She determined to sleep no more. Yet a vast vision sank on her weary spirit‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe vision of a dark cloud that dropped and dropped upon her, and lay as lead along her straining shoulders. She must lift it, she knew, though it were big as a world, and she put her strength to it and groaned as the porter cried in the ghostly morning light:
“Atlanta! All change!”
Away yonder at the school near Toomsville, Miss Smith sat waiting for the coming of Zora, absently attending the duties of the office. Dark little heads and hands bobbed by and soft voices called:
“Miss Smith, I wants a penny pencil.”
“Miss Smith, is yo’ got a speller fo’ ten cents?”