were born for one another. Before they left for Chicago they were married by ‘Pastuh’ Bimeby who was also a blacksmith, a dentist and a letter-writer for the multitude. His name was not really ‘Bimeby’ but that is what everybody called him because he was forever putting off chores that he had to do.
“Do it bimeby,” he used to say.
But at weddings he was always punctual. The young folks of the countryside saw to that.
For three years Linda and her husband had lived in Chicago. He had hoped to become a successful civil engineer but nothing seemed to go right for him. It was a field for white men. Night after night he returned home in despair. Commercial Chicago crushed him.
Then Enoch was born. It made the outlook a bit less gloomy. Benda Joel took on new courage.
“It doesn’t matter anyhow,” he said. “I don’t have to be a civil engineer. We’ll buy a farm, you and I and baby. The soil doesn’t care what color a man is born. The important
thing is what color he lives. Just as good pota-
