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and frequently half the night there was work。 Because of the
tiredness in him he wanted sometimes to lie down on the floor
and beat with his fists and cry。 If he could rest he might get
well。 He had tuberculosis of the lungs； and he measured his
temperature four times a day and had an X…ray once a month。
But he could not rest。 For there was another
thing bigger than the tiredness—and this was the strong true
purpose。
He would think of this purpose until sometimes； after a long
day and night of work； he would become blank so that he
would forget for a minute just what the purpose was。 And then
it would come to him again and he would be restless and eager
to take on a new task。 But the words often stuck in his mouth；
and his voice now was hoarse and not loud as it had been
before。 He pushed the words into the sick and patient faces of
the Negroes who were his people。
Often he talked to Mr。 Singer。 With him he spoke of chemistry
and the enigma of the universe。 Of the infinitesimal sperm and
the cleavage of the ripened egg。 Of the complex million…fold
division of the cells。 Of the mystery of living matter and the
simplicity of death。 And also he spoke with him of race。
'My people were brought from the great plains； and the dark；
green jungles；' he said once to Mr。 Singer。 'On the long
chained journeys to the coast they died by the thousands。 Only
the strong survived。 Chained in the foul ships that brought
them here they died again。 Only the hardy Negroes with will
could live。 Beaten and chained and sold on the block； the least
of these strong ones perished again。 And finally through the
bitter years the strongest of my people are still here。 Their
sons and daughters； their grandsons and great grandsons。'
'I come to borrow and I come to ask a favor；' Portia said。
Doctor Copeland was alone in his kitchen when she walked
through the hall and stood in the doorway to tell him this。 Two
weeks had passed since William had been sent away。 Portia
was changed。 Her hair was not oiled and combed as usual； her
eyes were bloodshot as though she had partaken of strong
drink。 Her cheeks were hollow； and with her sorrowful；
honey…colored face she truly resembled her mother now。
'You know them nice white plates and cups you have？'
*You may have them and keep them。'
'No； I only wants to borrow。 And also I come here to ask a
favor of you。'
'Anything you wish；' said Doctor Copeland。
Portia sat down across the table from her father。 Tirst I120
suppose I better explain。 Yesdiddy I got this here message
from Grandpapa saying they all coming in tomorrow and
spend the night and part of Sunday with us。 Course they been
mighty worried about Willie； and Grandpapa feel like us all
ought to get together again。 He right； too。 I sure do want to see
our fcLnfolks again。 I been mighty homesick since Willie
been gone。'
'You may have the plates and anything else you can find
around here；' Doctor Copeland said。 'But hold up your
shoulders； Daughter。 Your carriage is bad。'
'It going to be a real reunion。 You know this is the first time
Grandpapa have spent the night in town for twenty years。 He
haven't ever slept outside of his own home except two times in
his whole life。 And anyway he kind of nervous at night。 All
during the dark he have to get up and drink water and be sure
the childrens is covered up and all right。 I a little worried
about if Grandpapa will be comfortable here。'
'Anything of mine you think you will need——'
'Course Lee Jackson bringing them in；' said Portia。 'And with
Lee Jackson it going to take them all day to get here。 1 not
expecting them till around supper…time。 Course Grandpapa
always so patient with Lee Jackson he wouldn't make him
hurry none。'
'My soul！ Is that old mule still alive？ He must be fully
eighteen years old。'
'He even older than that。 Grandpapa been working him now
for twenty years。 He done had that mule so long he always say
it just like Lee Jackson is one of his blood kin。 He understand
and love Lee Jackson like he do his own grandchildrens。 I
never seen a human who know so good what a animal is
thinking as Grandpapa。 He haves a close feeling for everthing
that walks and eats。'
'Twenty years is a long time to work a mule。'
'It sure is。 Now Lee Jackson is right feeble。 But Grandpapa
sure do take good care of him。 When they plows out in the hot
sun Lee Jackson haves a great big straw hat on his head just
like Grandpapa—with holes cut for his ears。 That mule's straw
hat is a real joke； and Lee Jackson won't budge a step when he
going to plow without that hat is on his head。'
Doctor Copeland took down the white china dishes from
the shelf and began to wrap them ia newspaper。 'Have you
enough pots and pans to cook all the food you will need？'
'Plenty；' Portia said。 'I not going to any special trouble。
Granpapa； he Mr。 Thoughtful hisself—and he always bring in
something to help out when the f ambly come to dinner。 I only
going to have plenty meal and cabbage and two pounds of
nice mullet。' 'Sounds good。'
Portia laced her nervous yellow fingers together。 〃There one
thing I haven't told you yet。 A surprise。 Buddy going to ｜ be
here as well as Hamilton。 Buddy just come back from Mobile。
He helping out on the farm now。'
〃It has been five years since I last saw Karl Marx。' 'And that
just what I come to ask you about；* said Portia。 'You
remember when I walked in the door I told you I come to
borrow and to ask a favor。'
Doctor Copeland cracked the points of his fingers。 'Yes。'
'Well； I come to see if I can't get you to be there tomorrow at
the reunion。 All your childrens but Willie going to be there。
Seem to me like you ought to join us。 I sure will be glad if you
come。'
Hamilton and Karl Marx and Portia—and William。 Doctor
Copeland removed his spectacles and pressed his fingers
against his eyelids。 For a minute he saw the four of them very
plainly as they were a long time ago。 Then he looked up and
straightened his glasses on his nose。 Thank you；' he said。 'I
will come。'
That night he sat alone by the stove in the dark room and
remembered。 He thought back to the time of his childhood。
His mother had been born a slave； and after freedom she was a
washerwoman。 His father was a preacher； who had once
known John Brown。 They had taught him； and out of the two
or three dollars they had earned each week they saved。 When
he was seventeen years old they had sent him North with
eighty dollars hidden in his shoe。 He had worked in a
blacksmith's shop and as a waiter and as a bellboy in a hotel。
And all the while he studied and read and went to school。 His
father died and his mother did not live long without him。 After
ten years of struggle he was a doctor and he knew his mission
and he came South
again。
He married and made a home。 He went endlessly from122
house to house and spoke the mission and the truth。 The
hopeless suffering of his people made in him a madness； a
wild and evil feeling of destruction。 At times he drank strong
liquor and beat his head against the floor。 In his heart there
was a savage violence； and once he grasped the poker from the
hearth and struck down his wife。 She took Hamilton； Karl
Marx； William； and Portia with her to her father's home。 He
wrestled in his spirit and fought down the evil blackness。 But
Daisy did not come back to him。 And eight years later when
she died his sons were not children any more and they did not
return to him。 He was left an old man in an empty house。
Promptly at five o'clock the next afternoon he arrived at the
house where Portia and Highboy lived。 They resided in the
part of town called Sugar Hill； and the house was a narrow
cottage with a porch and two rooms。 From inside there was a
babble of mixed voices。 Doctor Copeland approached stiffly
and stood in the doorway holding his shabby felt hat in his
hand。
The room was crowded and at first he was not noticed。 He
sought the faces of Karl Marx and Hamilton。 Besides them
there was Grandpapa and two children who sat together on the
floor。 He was still looking into the faces of his sons when
Portia perceived him standing in the door。 'Here Father；' she
said。
The voices stopped。 Grandpapa turned around in his chair。 He
was thin and bent and very wrinkled。 He was wearing the
same greenish…black suit that he had worn thirty years before
at his daughter's wedding。 Across his vest there was a
tarnished brass watch chain。 Karl Marx and Hamilton looked
at each other； then down at the floor； and finally at their
father。
'Benedict Mady' said the old man。 'Been a long
time。 A real long time。'
'Ain't it； though！' Portia said。 'This here the first reunion us is
all had in many a year。 Highboy； you get a chair from the
kitchen。 Father； here Buddy and Hamilton。' Doctor Copeland
shook hands with his sons。 They were both tall and strong and
awkward。 Against their blue shirts and overalls their skin had
the same rich brown color as did Portia's。 They did not look
him in the eye； and in their faces there was neither love no