child in her lap. After a while he took the baby into his arms, and then the foreboding suddenly became pain.
He looked up and met the gaze of the woman. It was there in her eyes also, plain for him to see.
Out in the silence of the street a sound commenced to grow. Only a faint, far murmur at first, it gathered weight until it became a steady rumble, with a staccato clip, clip, clip running through it.
There were a few women and children about, and they ran to the entrance to see. But Porgy and Bess sat and looked fixedly at the bay, where it lay beyond the gate.
Then the drays came, and the bay was blotted out by the procession.
The great mules, fat and strong from their summer in pasture, moved swiftly with a sharp click of shoes, and the drivers cracked their whips and laughed down at the crowd. The low platforms of the vehicles seemed almost to brush the ground; and, upon them, clear to the top of the entrance arch, the bales towered, with the fibre showing in dazzling white patches where the bagging was torn. Twenty or more in the train they passed.
Scarcely had the rumble receded in the distance, than a burst of heavy laughter
