Page:The Blacker the Berry - Thurman - 1929.djvu/55

 was now about to introduce herself, was the type she had in mind, genteel, well and tastily dressed, and not ugly.

“Good morning.”

Alma Martin looked up from the book she was reading, gulped in surprise, then answered, “Good morning.”

Emma Lou sat down on the bench. She was congeniality itself. “Are you a new student?” she inquired of the astonished Alma, who wasn’t used to this sort of thing.

“No, I'm a ‘soph’,” then realizing she was expected to say more, “you’re new, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” replied Emma Lou, her voice buoyant and glad. “This will be my first year.”

“Do you think you will like it?”

“I’m just crazy about it already. You know,” she advanced confidentially, “I’ve never gone to school with any colored people before.”

“No?”

“No, and I am just dying to get acquainted with the colored students. Oh, my name’s Emma Lou Morgan.”

“And mine is Alma Martin.”

They both laughed. There was a moment of silence. Alma looked at her wrist watch, then got up from the bench.