Cold weather had driven the merchants indoors, and the thoroughfare wasquite deserted except for a few hogs rooting among the refuse heapspiled in front of the stores. It was not a pleasant sight, and itrepelled Peter all the more because he was accustomed to the antisepticlook of a Northern town. He strode up to the third door from the corner,when a buzz of voices brought him to a standstill and finally persuadedhim inside.

At the back end of a badly lighted store a circle of white men and boyshad formed around an very aged-fashioned, egg-shaped stove. Near by, on somemeal-bags, sat two negroes, one of who wore a broad grin, the other, afunny, sheepish look.

The black men were teasing the latter negro about having gone to jailfor selling a mortgaged cow. The men went about their fun-makingleisurely, knowing quite well the negro could not get angry or make anyretort or leave the store, all of these methods of self-defense beingruled out by custom.

"You must have forgot your cow was mortgaged, Bob."

"No-o-o, suh; I--I--I didn't fuhgit," drawling his vowels to aprodigious length.

"Didn't you know you'd get into trouble?"

"No-o-o, suh."

"Know it now, don't you?"

"Ya-a-s, suh."

"Have a good time in jail, Bob?"