Ellie's lips brushed his cheek as she passed by to set the table for dinner. Tom smiled at her and was thankful once again for his good luck. Could it have been only eight years? There was little visible change in her figure, even after three kids. You'd never call her a "nigger." She was a Negro and a beautiful one at that. Her skin was a darker brown than Tom's, but her hair had none of the kinky wool-liness associated with their race. Her eyes were bright as she finished setting the dinner on the table and she continued to tell her husband of the day's events. "I thought the kids would drive those movers nuts!" she said, her voice rising slightly with suppressed laughter. "Tommy couldn't bear to part with that deformed baseball glove." "He's had it since he was four. In fact, it was secondhand when I bought it for him." Tom smiled as he picked it up from the cabinet. Ellie stuck her head through the doorway and quieted the din in the living room by announcing that dinner was ready. The children trooped cross the bare, worn floorboards and took their usual places at the wooden table. The chairs scraped along the floor and bumped against the table as the family got ready to say grace. "Eugenie," said Tom softly. "Okay," answered a soft, girlish voice. Heads were bowed around the table and an intimate stillness came over the group. "God is great," began Eugenie, repeating words she had heard often in her five years. "God is good. Let us thank him for our food. Amen." "Amen" repeated voices in a domino-like order. Dinner proceeded then with some semblance of peace and relaxation. "Will we finish tomorrow?" asked Eugenie. "I hope so," sighed Tommy. "I sure don't like this awful hot place anymore." "We moob long ways," said Marcie, delightedly. "Oh, silly it's only about twenty miles," chortled Tom summoning up all of his superior seven years. "Will there be lots of kids to play with?" asked Eugenie and Tommy simultaneously. "Well, I'm sure that in time you'll be able to find some fine playmates." Ellie searched her husband's eyes for some kind of agreement. He nodded vaguely, looking around the table at his family. "There are good people everywhere," he replied as he pushed his chair back and got up. "Just remember that." Tom walked into the living room and looked from the window to see if Chuck was still outside. "I'm goin' over to Chuck's for a while. I'll be back in an hour or so. Okay?" 10 "Fine." "Bye, Daddy!" Going down the stairs was considerably easier than going up. The main door slammed shut and Tom crossed the narrow asphalt street in a very few steps. He eased himself down upon the step beside Chuck. "Greetings, old man," laughed Chuck. "So the heat's got you too, huh?" "Yeah. This is really something." "Well, tomorrow's the big day, I guess. Is this our last visit?" "Oh hell, Chuck! You know we'll still see each other." "Yeah? It's sure gonna' be different, ya know." "I doubt it." "Are you gonna' live across the street from Chuck Alvarez or next door to Mrs. Murphy?" Chuck's eyes had lost the friendliness that Tom had enjoyed before. Instead, the eyes turned from Tom's and searched the numerous dingy windows along the street. When he finally looked back at Tom, he fixed his gaze above Tom's head. "How long's it gonna' be before you decide to drop by again?" "I think you're making a lot out of nothing. We're moving to a bigger house and a better neighborhood for raising the kids." "Uh huh." "Chuck, movin' twenty miles isn't gonna' make Thomas W. Porter any whiter, or any blacker, or any better, or any worse. Ellie and I want what's good for our kids. Any parents want that." "I suppose." Chuck raised his dark head a little bit and then suddenly stood up. His squat, heavy body looked strangely set and defiant. Tom rose and moved slowly down the steps. He turned and rested his arm on the chipped, iron railing. His left hand picked nervously at his pant legs. "Good night, Chuck. I'll see you around." "Yeah, I guess so." He turned and was gone inside the building before Tom reached the sidwalk. Looking at his watch, Tom was surprised to see that it was already eight o'clock. The apartment seemed even more barren than it had before and Tom hoped that the night would be short. A light was on in the one bedrooms and he went in to sit on the bed, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture. "Kids ready for bed?" "Yes. They've been waiting for you." Tom rose and walked back into the living room. He opened the other bedroom door and looked into the darkened room. "Hey, Dad, will you please get my mitt from the kitchen?" asked Tommy as he stretched a dark brown arm to 11