Free The Letter Writer by Ann Rinaldi

handed the tray to me, and then took her arm and brought her inside. He brought her into the front parlor and closed whatever windows were open and even drew the curtains. Then he went outside to wake Margaret and fetch her, Emilie, and Pleasant inside. He carried in the cradle with William in it.
    He took Margaret aside for a moment and spoke to her, low and soft, before he brought her in. I think he was explaining to her what the smell was. I think the calmness and reasoning in his voice prevented her hysterics. When he brought her in and sat her down, he offered to make a new pot of coffee, assuring Mother Whitehead that he knew how. She said yes, and oh how nice, and before we knew what had transpired, Nat brought the coffee in along with washed cups and more cake.
    I tried to catch his glance, to see the expression on his face, but I could not. He was like a stone idol, carved out of granite by someone who had more memories than
they could bear and was carving them on his face to get rid of them.
    He left us there in the parlor with nothing to talk about now, with nothing to do but wait for something terrible to happen, only we didn't know yet what it was to be.

Thirteen
Dear Uncle Andrew: The half of Violet that is white was strong on the outside, pleasing Mother Whitehead, who thought she was strong through and through. Violet served us at supper that evening after she came home and her face was placid, as usual, and she had about her the wits that always carried her through, though she would scarce look at me, for fear her true feelings would show and she would make a disgrace of herself.
    That night, after she went to her attic room, I heard her crying from my bedroom down the stairs. I waited a bit to be sure the house was settled, and then I went up to her.
    "Oh, Harriet," she said, her face buried in the pillow, lest anyone should hear, "it was terrible. I would die before I would let your brother make me attend one of those happenings again. And do you know, speaking of Richard, what he did?"
    I was afraid to ask, so she told me, anyway.
    She told me that just before they burned the slave, Richard got up there and gave a sermon! He told of the command God had given the servants, concerning their masters. He said they should love and obey their masters. He quoted all those passages from the Bible about slaves and masters.
    Oh, Uncle Andrew, Violet was terrified. "I'm half negro," she said. "Do all those things apply to me? Are you my mistress? Would you have me burned? Would you try to stop it if Richard wanted it? And how can anyone who considers himself an upright human being order or attend the burning of another human being?"
    I didn't know what to say, Uncle Andrew. I never think of her as being colored, or my servant. She is just my friend, and more of a sister to me than Margaret. I don't understand this slavery business at all. But I do understand that Violet never should have been made
to go to this killing. After all, she is only three years older than I.
    Anyway, she didn't want me to leave her that night, so I got under the quilt with her and held her, and she was shaking. I have never before seen this girl frightened of anything. We both soon fell asleep and, since she gets up at five thirty in the morning, I was able to slip downstairs to my own bed in the early hours so Mother Whitehead didn't catch me with her.
    Violet was up extra early that morning. And do you know what for? To burn the clothes she attended the burning in! She said they had that terrible smell on them and she could never wear them again. And sure enough they did smell. And so did the clothing of the other household help.
    And when they saw what she was about, soon, one by one, they all came out with the clothing they had attended the burning in. And soon there was a great pile of clothing burning out in the barnyard pit. When Richard came down for breakfast he asked what was going on. And he became very angry when Violet told