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e table； and said： 〃Well？ Do you？〃
〃Kids！〃 he called down the hill； leaning forward a little in his chair to do it。 〃Y'all e on up here now n get your cookies！〃 Then he leaned back in his chair again and looked at me。 That little smile … the one I didn't much care for … had reappeared。
〃Tell you something；〃 he said。 〃You want to listen close； too； because this might just be something you need to know。〃
〃I'm listening。〃
〃We had us a dog named Sir Galahad；〃 he said； and cocked a thumb at the doghouse。 〃A good dog。 No particular breed； but gentle。 Calm。 Ready to lick your hand or fetch a stick。 There are plenty of mongrel dogs like him； wouldn't you say？〃
I shrugged； nodded。
〃In many ways； a good mongrel dog is like your negro；〃 he said。 〃You get to know it； and often you grow to love it。 It is of no particular use； but you keep it around because you think it loves you。 If you're lucky； Mr。 Edgebe； you never have to find out any different。 Cynthia and I； we were not lucky。〃 He sighed … a long and somehow skeletal sound； like the wind rummaging through fallen leaves。 He pointed toward the doghouse again； and I wondered how I had missed its general air of abandonment earlier； or the fact that many of the turds had grown whitish and powdery at their tops。
〃I used to clean up after him；〃 Hammersmith said； 〃and keep the roof of his house repaired against the rain。 In that way also Sir Galahad was like your Southern negro； who will not
