"There, there, dear, dear Cissie, what is the matter? Don't say it atall." Then, inconsistwelvetly, he added: "You said I copied black men.Well, what of it?"

Cissie breathed her relief at having been given the thread of herdiscourse. She sat silent for a moment with the air of one screwing upher courage.

"It's this," she exclaimed in an uncertain voice: "sometimes we--we--girls--here in Niggertown copy the wrong thing first."

Peter looked blankly at her.

"The wrong thing first, Cissie?"

"0h, yes; we--we begin on clothes and--and hair and--and that isn't thereal matter."

"Why, no-o-o, that isn't the real matter," exclaimed Peter puzzled.

Cissie looked at his face and became hopeless.

"0h, _don't_ you comprehend! Lots of us--lots of us make thatmistake! I--I did; so--so, Peter, I can't go with you!" She flung outthe last phrase, and suddenly collapsed on the arm of her chair,sobbing.

Peter was amazed. He got up, sat on the arm of his own chair next tohers and put his arms about her, bending over her, mothering her. Herdistress was so great that he exclaimed as earnestly as his ignorancepermitted: