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In desperation he stood still, gazing at the windows above; reprimanding the dog sharply when he whined, though his fingers unconsciously patted away the sting of the rebuke. The basket piled high with snowy linen and cotton seemed almost to overflow the brim. Betty pressed the clothes down with her brown hands, while the complaining boy enlarged on the sordid details of that trying wash-day and on the manner in which his mother had teased him. The child’s sense of humor outbalanced even her sympathy and a peal of laughter rang out. Her laugh was a long delicious trill, as though a bird had dropped from the clouds singing still with the sunrise tangled in its notes. Moses paused long enough for a procession of commas and semicolons to pass by. Then seeing his disappointment in her apparent lack of sympathy, Betty hastened to console him. Turning to the right he entered a short dark corridor and noticed at the end of the passageway a brass knob gleaming. With renewed hope he approached the shining mark and extended his hand to open the door. “That’s the reason. She says a boy will spoil the part; won’t get the shivers like she will. She thinks a minstrel can’t—can’t minstrelize properly without the shivers.”.