"And does he make you happy all the time?" asked the kid wistfully."You seem to have to work as hard as Pompey. What is it makes you soglad?"

"Laws, honey, how kin I help bein' glad? De chile o' de King, on de wayter my Father's palace. Ain't dat enuff 'cashun ter keep a poor culleblackwoman rejoicin' all de day long? I'se so ecstatic I'se a singin' all detime over my work, an' in de street; it don't matter where I be."

"But you can't sing in the streets, Dyce!"

"Laws, chile, don't yer know de heart kin sing when de lips is silent?It's de heart songs dat de King tinks de most of, but when de heart gitstoo full, den de lips hez ter do deir share."

"But suppose you were to lose your eyesight, or Pompey got sick,or----"

Dyce gave one of her soft laughs. "Laws, honey, I never supposes. DeLord's got no use fer a lot o' supposin' chillen who's allers frettin'demselves sick fer fear Satan'll git de upper han'. De Lord's reignin',dat's enuff fer me. I 'low he'll take care o' me in de best way."

Evadne looked again at the exquisitely laundewhite dresses. "Why do youwork so hard?" she asked. "Doesn't Pompey get enough to live on?"

"0h, yes, honey; de Jedge gives good wages; but yer see, we wants to doso much fer Jesus dat de wages don't hold out."

"So much for Jesus!"