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company deputy had guaranteed his bill at the commissary. He’d even borrowed a stamp to mail this letter.
    His second letter told of the $14.80 shift, and, as mentioned, word spread through three counties. I’d hardly arrived in West Virginia when a trickle of visitors, still hearing of that shift, came to look for work. As the Depression grew worse, the trickle became a steady stream.
    That long, hard shift was beginner’s luck. The regular machine-helper came back to work the next day, and David began to dig coal. He seldom made less than eight dollars a day. This would have been riches in Piper, as the mine worked six days a week. But his board was $1.25 a day. His bill at the store would be collected before he could draw a pay. But just as soon as possible, he’d send for us.
    The summer was half gone: full of laughter, tears, heat, and happy children who played all day long. Very pretty children. Miss Mildred had blue eyes, dark curly hair, and dark skin. Colleen had her great blue eyes, curls, and the Mosley fair skin. Daphne, too, and Royce and J. D. had inherited curls.
    Meals were heaped up on the table, vegetables mostly. Eggs were legal tender, exchanged for necessities when the check gave out. I lived in a half-vacuum. Sometimes at night, I felt trapped and guilty. By day I felt better. Millions were in far worse state. We were not hungry. My children were well-fed and loved. Miss Mildred’s heart was big enough to love all the children in the world, so it was very easy for her to love step-grandchildren. The girls had all the milk they could drink. Davene, seated, would pull herself by her feet (before she walked), and say “bilk, bilk, bilk” when she saw the full milk bucket. Miss Mildred always gave her a glassful.
    Oh, things were going well for us! Sharon had escaped a horrible death. No need to feel guilty. We hadn’t done anything to bring this on ourselves. Look at the Chicago gangsters: soaked in blood, doing every evil under the sun, and living in fabulous prosperity. Surely they couldn’t be happy. Money could not buy happiness.
    We, the poor, knew far more happiness. We could sleep at night with no black deeds on our conscience. Besides, when things looked blackest, there was always David’s job.
    And soon I was to have work also.

5
    The Community Barber
     
    My stepbrothers Grayson and Lee were as far apart as East and West. Grayson, the older, was bossed outrageously by Lee, a changeling, made up of quicksilver sweetness, meanness, and mischief. Lee’s charm clutched at your heart in the same moment you wondered why someone didn’t beat the daylights out of him.
    A great romance had budded at the farm when the children and I arrived. Through the summer it sprang into full and glorious bloom. Lee, desperately in love with my cousin Pearl, babbled to anyone who would listen. At age twelve, his was a pure and noble love. To show his devotion, he stole eggs to buy candy for Pearl, and like a man, he spoke for her. Papa’s brother, Uncle Lish, his hazel eyes twinkling, listened and then discussed the matter of support.
    “We mean to wait until we are sixteen,” Lee said bravely. He had blond curls, fair skin with pale freckles, and a dimpled chin that definitely proved the saying “Dimple in the chin, a devil within.” His wide blue eyes between thick gold lashes had such a look of innocence that he escaped the consequences of his mischief again and again.
    He had a Tom Sawyer personality and would have liked a tough, manly exterior. Each morning he plastered his curls flat, but they soon sprang erect. If he had possessed sufficient funds, Lee, I am sure, would have bought hair-straightener. Not only was his hair incurably curly but it grew prolifically. Haircuts were twenty-five cents each. Men could scarcely afford a haircut in those days.
    Lee worked a deal with the barber, and one day he approached me with barber scissors. “Sue,” he smiled. “Will you cut my hair?” I had