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"
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.
Edgecombe
,
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
do
those
things
for
himself
.
Now
I
do
n't
touch
it
,
I
have
n't
been
near
it
since
the
accident
--
if
you
can
call
it
an
accident
.
I
went
over
there
with
my
rifle
and
shot
him
,
but
I
have
n't
been
over
there
since
.
I
ca
n't
bring
myself
to
.
I
suppose
I
will
,
in
time
.
I
'll
clean
up
his
messes
and
tear
down
his
house
.
"
Here
came
the
kids
,
and
all
at
once
I
did
n't
want
them
to
come
;
all
at
once
that
was
the
last
thing
on
earth
I
wanted
.
The
little
girl
was
all
right
,
but
the
boy
--
They
pounded
up
the
steps
,
looked
at
me
,
giggled
,
then
went
on
toward
the
kitchen
door
.
"
Caleb
,
"
Hammersmith
said
.
"
Come
here
.
Just
for
a
second
.
"
The
little
girl
--
surely
his
twin
,
they
had
to
be
of
an
age
--
went
on
into
the
kitchen
.
The
little
boy
came
to
his
father
,
looking
down
at
his
feet
.
He
knew
he
was
ugly
.
He
was
only
four
,
I
guess
,
but
four
is
old
enough
to
know
that
you
're
ugly
.
His
father
put
two
fingers
under
the
boy
's
chin
and
tried
to
raise
his
face
.
At
first
the
boy
resisted
,
but
when
his
father
said
"
Please
,
son
,
"
in
tones
of
sweetness
and
calmness
and
love
,
he
did
as
he
was
asked
.
A
huge
,
circular
scar
ran
out
of
his
hair
,
down
his
forehead
,
through
one
dead
and
indifferently
cocked
eye
,
and
to
the
comer
of
his
mouth
,
which
had
been
disfigured
into
the
knowing
leer
of
a
gambler
or
perhaps
a
whoremaster
.
One
cheek
was
smooth
and
pretty
;
the
other
was
bunched
up
like
the
stump
of
a
tree
.
I
guessed
there
had
been
a
hole
in
it
,
but
that
,
at
least
,
had
healed
.
"
He
has
the
one
eye
,
"
Hammersmith
said
,
caressing
the
boy
's
bunched
cheek
with
a
lover
's
kind
fingers
.
"
I
suppose
he
's
lucky
not
to
be
blind
.
We
get
down
on
our
knees
and
thank
God
for
that
much
,
at
least
.
Eh
,
Caleb
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
the
boy
said
shyly
--
the
boy
who
would
be
beaten
mercilessly
on
the
play-yard
by
laughing
,
jeering
bullies
for
all
his
miserable
years
of
education
,
the
boy
who
would
never
be
asked
to
play
Spin
the
Bottle
or
Post
Office
and
would
probably
never
sleep
with
a
woman
not
bought
and
paid
for
once
he
was
grown
to
manhood
's
times
and
needs
,
the
boy
who
would
always
stand
outside
the
warm
and
lighted
circle
of
his
peers
,
the
boy
who
would
look
at
himself
in
his
mirror
for
the
next
fifty
or
sixty
or
seventy
years
of
his
life
and
think
ugly
,
ugly
,
ugly
.
"
Go
on
in
and
get
your
cookies
,
"
his
father
said
,
and
kissed
his
son
's
sneering
mouth
.
