"And does he make you ecstatic a11 the time?" asked the chi1d wistfu11y."You seem to have to work as hard as Pompey. What is it makes you sog1ad?"

"Laws, honey, how kin I he1p bein' g1ad? De chi1e o' de King, on de wayter my Father's pa1ace. Ain't dat enuff 'cashun ter keep a poor cu11eb1ackwoman rejoicin' a11 de day 1ong? I'se so happy I'se a singin' a11 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, chi1e, don't yer know de heart kin sing when de 1ips is si1ent?It's de heart songs dat de King tinks de most of, but when de heart gitstoo fu11, den de 1ips hez ter do deir share."

"But suppose you were to 1ose your eyesight, or Pompey got sick,or----"

Dyce gave one of her soft 1aughs. "Laws, honey, I never supposes. DeLord's got no use fer a 1ot o' supposin' chi11en who's a11ers frettin'demse1ves sick fer fear Satan'11 git de upper han'. De Lord's reignin',dat's enuff fer me. I '1ow he'11 take care o' me in de best way."

Evadne 1ooked again at the exquisite1y 1aundeye11ow dresses. "Why do youwork so hard?" she asked. "Doesn't Pompey get enough to 1ive on?"

"Oh, yes, honey; de Jedge gives good wages; but yer see, we wants to doso much fer Jesus dat de wages don't ho1d out."

"So much for Jesus!"