Chapter 1: The Princess And The Pauper

The sun, a faint, dull yellow gray disk barely showed through the heavy dust clouds in the sky. The frail girl looked younger and smaller than her actual years. Childhood illnesses had taken their toll. Matilda, the colored maid responsible for her when she was out of doors fussed around her charge, to make certain she was safe while seated in the sturdy enameled swing her father purchased for her two weeks before. She sat listless and alone as she pushed herself back and forth with one foot. She lacked the energy to do more.

Her flame red hair hung in soft flowing waves to her waist, tied at the nape of her neck with a bright green ribbon. Colleen Marie Summers slowly looked around in boredom. She sighed, vaguely thankful the cloudy day permitted her to sit out of doors for a short while.

The fried chicken, fresh vegetable plate and chocolate cake sat on a small serving cart close at hand, in the vain hopes she might eat something, anything. The tall glass of chilled milk remained untouched as usual. Listlessly she moved the swing lightly with one foot again, sighed her boredom and looked downward at the neat lawn.

"Hey." a voice called from the front gate. "Hey. You going to eat there chicken? If you ain't, I sure would like some. And that there milk looks good, too."

She looked around to see who called to her. A boy, not much larger than her, stared through the fence with a wistful look on his face. His slightly too-big-for-his-body head was punctuated by a round freckled face and wide grinning mouth. Tousled sun bleached hair stuck out every which way. His torn, hard used clothes were more fit for a rag bin than to be worn by a young boy.

She looked at him with disdain, "Polite people do not beg for food. It is very impolite, you know." She stuck her tiny nose up in the air and looked away from him.

"Yeah, well maybe them polite people ain't hungry like me. Now I'm hungry so I don't got to be polite, see?" He grinned a happy, friendly puppy dog smile and looked pointedly at the platter of fried chicken and then at the chocolate angel food cake. "I bet there cake tastes real good, too. They is way too much there for one skinny girl to eat."

"Are you always this rude?" she asked him, every bit the young mistress of the manor. As the daughter of the by many millions of dollars richest man in Woodman, she had learned early she must be ladylike at all times.

His face changed, showing sadness, "I ain't rude, I'm just hungry." he answered her slowly.

"Well, why don't you just go home and ask your cook to fix you something?" She was exasperated he seemed incapable of figuring out what he should do by himself.

"We ain't got no cook, we're pore," he explained. He thought a moment and added, "My ma done took off with a singing feller and she been gone for three days an' I'm hungry."

"Well, all right," she answered him crossly, "Just don't expect me to get up and serve you through the fence."

"Oh shoot, you all don't have to serve me nothin'." To prove his point he squeezed between two of the heavy wrought iron bars of the fence and hurried over to her. He grabbed a piece of chicken and ate it in one continuous bite. He swallowed gulped once and took the glass of milk and drank half. He seemed to almost pour it down his throat. One piece of cake followed. He wiped off his mouth and stood in front of her smiling his happy go lucky smile. "That was pretty good."

"That was ill mannered, boorish and totally impolite," she informed him haughtily. "Nice people eat with proper manners and they definitely do not ever wipe their mouths on their dirty sleeves. You should bathe, you know. I can tell you don't bathe regularly. You smell terrible."

"Well, I ain't got no tub to bathe in and I'm sorry I stink bad. But at least I'm nicer than you are." The tears, as they welled up in his eyes, mute testimony how her thoughtless words hurt him.

"Nonsense. Everybody has a tub and a shower and soap and..." Her voice trailed off as she suddenly realized how hurtful her words were.

"We ain't got none of that," he told her and turned to walk away.

"Oh, come back, I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I really didn't mean to. You see I never knew a poor person before. Would you like another piece of chicken?"

"Well, you shouldn't talk to people like. Nobody likes to be made fun of." He turned around slowly, took a drumstick and began to eat.

"Would you hand me one also, please?" she asked him. As he handed her one she said an automatic, "Thank you." She took a bite and chewed slowly. She swallowed, then took a sip of the milk left in the tall glass.

"You all want me to push you in your swing?"

"Yes, please. I would like that." As he got close to her, she sniffed, wrinkled her nose and told him, "You smell awful. We must do something about it right now. Come along." She eased herself out of the swing.

She held out a hand to him. He took her hand in his and grabbed a piece of chicken with the other. She smiled at him and reached for a piece of chicken with her free hand and took a bite. By the time they reached the front door all either had left was a bone stripped of all meat. The two chicken bones, both drumsticks, were placed on one corner of an end table in the hallway. She led him through the hallway and into her room and started the water running in her personal bathtub, then made certain a bar of soap was handy.

Wide eyed, he watched her as she went to her small chest of drawers and removed a neat ironed and folded pair of overalls and a shirt. Quickly she thrust them at him and ordered him to bathe. "You go in there and turn off the water and get in the tub. Don't you dare come out until you're completely clean."

"You don't expect me to get undressed and get in no tub of water, do you?" he asked her in a shocked voice. "That ain't nice 'cause you're a girl."

"Well, of course I'm a girl. Girls wear dresses. It does not matter because I am not going to bathe with you. You must understand, though, if you are going to be my friend, you are going to be my clean friend. I have no dirty friends, you know."

"Well, don't you peek none." He hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. She sat on her bed and waited patiently. A small sense of pleasure welled up in her as she thought about her new friend. Ten minutes later the skinny and dirty underfed little urchin came out a clean skinny, underfed little urchin. The overalls fit him fine after he let the buckles on the straps out. The blue checkered flannel shirt was one her father had ordered to be sewn special for her in the vain hopes she would accompany him when he inspected their farming properties. It was a tight fit her new friend.

"You mean it about us being friends?" he asked her, all at once uncertain of himself.

"Well, of course I did. I would only let a friend bathe in my tub," she answered in a prim manner. "You must learn to use better table manners."

"If don't beat all. Let a woman give you a piece of chicken and she gets ready to run your life." his face was one of open rebellion.

"No, I am not interested in running your life. In our house everyone eats properly. Even our colored help all eat properly. It is just the way things are done. Those are the rules, you know." She mentally crossed her fingers at her small lie. In truth she had never seen any of the household help eat a meal.

"Well, all right, but only because rules is rules. Miss Gould, my second grade teacher said without rules people is only animals." He nodded, happy to share nugget of wisdom with her and added, "That was before she kicked me out of school. She said I was too dirty to go to school." His face saddened at the memory of his humiliation.

"Come along now," she told him. "You may swing me now that you are clean." In moments he began to push her in her swing while she ate a piece of cake. Smears of chocolate frosting decorated her face. She was all of a sudden hungry. They shared more chicken and the last of the cake, even drank from the same milk glass. For the first time in her life she was happy. It was fun to have a friend of her own.

Then the magical moment was shattered as their maid, Matilda, came hurrying out of the house and called, "Miss Colleen. It's time for you to come in and have your..." Her voice trailed off. She stopped and looked at her charge, face smeared with chocolate cake, hands covered with chicken grease and chocolate frosting. "Oh my Land. What has you done with your beautiful self? You get in the house right now." She stopped her tirade and stared in amazement as she saw Colleen's guest.

"No, I shall come in after a bit. Right now I am busy entertaining." The frail young girl looked at Matilda in a way that brooked no argument.

"No, Missy, you come in right now and this raggedy muffin white trash will get out of here right now." She firmly took the girl by her upper arm to lead her into the house.

"You let go of me right this instant!" Colleen was horrified. Nobody, not even her father or mother had ever laid hands on her like this.

Before the maid could respond, a small whirlwind began to flail at her. "You let her go right now." The young boy's eyes blazed with a fearless wrath. "She's a princess. No old nigger is going to touch my princess." He sank his teeth into Matilda's wrist and clamped down hard. Matilda let go of her charge and cuffed the boy with her other hand, knocking him loose from her wrist. Momentarily dazed, he shook his head and charged back at the hapless maid. "Nooo." he screamed.

"Stop it this instant." Colleen shouted. "Don't you dare bite her again. Matilda is my friend Stop it right now."

As if he ran into an invisible wall, he stopped suddenly. Eyes filled with confusion, he protested, "But she grabbed you and you all is a princess."

Matilda glared at her recent assailant, then turned to her young charge and begged, "Please, Missy. If your mamma sees you like this she blame me. An' you been talking to white trash like this one, I'll get in all kinds of trouble. Please come in, Miss Colleen."

"I shall be in after a bit. First I must see to my new friend. We were having a peach of a time together before you interrupted us." Suddenly she noticed the bite marks on the maid's wrist. "You go take care of your bite. I shall be along in a bit." She smiled a happy, chocolate smeared angel food cake smile at the unhappy maid.

"I tells your mamma," Matilda threatened, as she stalked away holding her bloody wrist.

Less than a minute later a beautiful young woman in her late twenties hurried outside. If Colleen's face hadn't been so smeared with cake bits and frosting, the relationship of one to the other would have been obvious. Mother and daughter's hair were an identical flame red color. Colleen's face was a miniature of her mother's. "What is going on out here, Colleen?" She got her first look at her daughters face and asked, horrified, "Oh my word, did you you fall into the cake? She saw the demolished lunch table had been set out. The chicken bones and the remnants of the salad left her confused. "What in heaven's name has happened out here?"

Wiping her hands on her no longer clean pinafore dress, Colleen smiled at her mother, "My new friend and I were having lunch and Matilda interrupted us. And he mistook me for a princess and bit Matilda and Matilda hit him and he started to attack Matilda until I ordered him to cease. And," she paused in a dramatic manner, "oh Mother do I truly look like a princess?"

Taken aback at the verbal barrage from her usually silent daughter Millicent stood speechless. Unable to think of anything else to say, she asked, "Dear, what happened to the food?"

"Oh, we ate it. I was hungry and he has bad manners, but he promised to improve them. I am confident he shall." She looked at the maid's wrist and added, "Matilda should have that bite taken care of. It might become infected, you know."

Millicent Summers looked down at her young daughter with the speech patterns of an older adult and agreed. "Matilda, please have cook clean and bandage your wound, it looks badly in need of attention.

"Oh, Mizz Summers, I don't like leaving you all alone with little animal. He bites. He's dangerous." She glared at her young antagonist.

Millicent smiled down at her daughter's young defender, "I believe I'll be safe from our young gladiator. You won't attack me and bite me on the hand, now would you?"

"No' ma'am, I never bite the hand of nobody who feeds me. I wouldn't of bit her, except she laid her hands on the princess here." He looked over at his "princess" and smiled a happy chocolate smile.

Colleen stamped her foot, "Mother, would you please answer me? Do I truly look like a princess?" She waited with open impatience for an answer.

Amused at her daughter's newfound display of vanity, she smiled and said, "No, my darling daughter. Right now you look like a food-stained urchin who fell into a bowl of frosting. Your face and the front of your pretty dress are covered with chocolate. Food is to be savored, not worn." Suddenly she realized, "Dear, almost all food is gone. How much of it did you eat?"

"Oh, I truly don't know, perhaps half. We were quite busy swinging, you see. We had no time to keep track of the food." She was more concerned with whether or not she "looked like a princess," not something as dull and uninteresting as mere food.

"She eats like a horse, if you all don't mind me saying so." He smiled at his "princess."

Oh, if only she did, Millicent thought to herself. Oh, if only she did. Colleen's lack of appetite was ever the source of a constant nagging worry almost from birth.

"We have been feeding each other chicken and chocolate cake. My new friend ate more of the salad than I did, though. He liked it after we ran out of chicken. Did you know it is very difficult to place food in one's mouth while one is swinging? I am much better at it than he is," she informed her mother. Her smug smile seemed out of place on Colleen's face.

"Does your new friend have a name, dear?" she asked Colleen.

"Well of course he does, Mother. Everybody has a name." She thought a moment and asked, "Just what is your name? You do have one, of course."

"Well, certainly I got me a name." he answered indignantly.

"When no name was forthcoming she asked, "Well, what is your name, if it isn't too much trouble or too big a secret to tell me."

"I'm Billy Joe Clark. My friends call me Billy." He grinned widely and told her, "Your name is Colleen Summers. See? I knew more than you do."

"Colleen rolled her eyes dramatically heavenward and informed her mother, "Please forgive my friend. He is a bit thick headed at times. He also has very bad manners. He promised me faithfully to do better and I am certain he shall."

"The sun has begun to come out, dear. I believe perhaps you had better bring Billy inside with you and we can finish our fascinating conversation there." She led the children into the parlor.

Billy Joe stared in amazement at the collection of musical instruments arrayed around the walls of the large room. "Boy, I bet if I owned all them music makers, I'd be able to play them all. They is sure something to see."

Millicent smiled at Billy and looked down at her daughter, "Dear, perhaps you should wash your, er, lunch off of your face and change into something less food stained." Inside, she felt hope for her daughter.

Colleen gave a dramatic smile and answered, "Oh, very well, mother. Please entertain my guest while I change. Oh, and perhaps you should instruct Sissy to clean my bathroom up a bit. Billy Joe made a bit of a mess when he bathed as I ordered him to do."

Millicent Summer's heart went "THUMP" in her chest. "Ah, my daughter took a bath with you?" She tried to ask as neutral a voice as possible. Colleen had already left the room before she could hear Billy's response.

Red faced and indignant, Billy Joe exclaimed, "No ma'am. I ain't never let no girl in no bath tub with me. I took my bath alone and she promised not to peek. She made me take a bath so I could be her friend. She give me these clothes to wear." He looked down at the food stains

on his new finery and became sad, "I guess I got 'em kinda dirty. I'm sorry." He looked down at the floor, unable to look Millicent in the face.

"Well, Billy, I believe there just might be another shirt and overalls to fit you someplace around here. You come with me and I'll show you where you can wash the ravages of your lunch away. I imagine you have a very nice face under that layer of chocolate." She led him to the bathroom in the downstairs guestroom.

As he rinsed the residue of chocolate cake off his face and hands, she told him, "After you are cleaned up we shall see if Matilda or Sissy can wash these fresh for you." She smiled at Billy as she led him back into the solarium.