stolen it. Negroes would steal, everybody said. Well, she must and would have the pin, and she started for Elspeth’s cabin.
On the way she met the old woman in the path, but got little satisfaction. Elspeth merely grunted ungraciously while eyeing the white woman with suspicion.
Mary Taylor, again alone, sat down at a turn in the path, just out of sight of the house, and waited. Soon she saw, with a certain grim satisfaction, Zora and Bles emerging from the swamp engaged in earnest conversation. Here was an opportunity to overwhelm both with an unforgettable reprimand. She rose before them like a spectral vengeance.
“Zora, I want my pin.”
Bles started and stared; but Zora eyed her calmly with something like disdain.
“What pin?” she returned, unmoved.
“Zora, don’t deny that you took my pin from the desk this afternoon,” the teacher commanded severely.
“I didn’t say I didn’t take no pin.”
“Persons who will lie and steal will do anything.”
“Why shouldn’t people do anything they wants to?”
“And you knew the pin was mine.”
“I saw you a-wearing of it,” admitted Zora easily.
“Then you have stolen it, and you are a thief.”
Still Zora appeared to be unimpressed with the heinousness of her fault.