drawl, and raised his eyes to the next negro on the morning's list.
They hoisted the outfit, goat and all, into the patrol for the trip to the jail, thus again brightening a day for a group of light-hearted Nordics upon the pavement.
A large, red-faced policeman took his seat at the rear of the wagon.
"You sure beat all!" he confided to Porgy, with a puzzled frown. "Runnin' away like the devil was after you, from bein' a witness; an' now goin' to jail with a face like Sunday mornin'."
§
In the fresh beauty of an early October morning, Porgy returned home. There were few of his friends about, as work was now plentiful, and most of those who could earn a day's wage were up and out. He drove through the entrance, pulled his goat up short, and looked about him.
Serena was seated on her bench with a baby in her arms.
Porgy gave her a long look, and a question commenced to dawn in his eyes. The child turned in her arms, and his suspicions were confirmed. It was his baby-his and Bess's.
