"Go 'long an' call Porgy," she commanded. "Can't yuh tell folks when yuh see um?"
A light broke over the young woman's face.
"Oh, yuh means Porgy?" she cried, as though she had just heard the name for the first time; "I ain't understan' wut name yuh say, Boss," and echoes arose from different parts of the court. "Oh, yes, de gentleman mean Porgy. How come we ain't understan'." Then the tension in the air broke, and life resumed its interrupted flow.
The young woman stepped to Porgy's door, and called. Presently the door opened, and a woman helped the beggar out to his seat upon the sill, then seated herself behind him in the deep gloom of the room.
Archdale crossed the short distance, and seated himself on the sill beside the negro.
"Tell me about your friend who got locked up on account of the Robbins murder," he asked, without preamble.
In the dim light, Porgy leaned forward and looked long into the keen, kindly face of his questioner.
Archdale gave a surprised exclamation: "Why, you're the old man who used to beg in front of the apothecary shop on King Charles Street!" he said. Then, after a mo-
