The line crash down in Miss Leefolt's ear. She stand there a second staring at it, then throw a housecoat over her nightgown. "I've got to go go," she says, scrambling round for her keys. "I'll be back."

She run all pregnant out the door and tumble in her car and speed off. I look down at Mae Mobley and she look up at me.

"Don't ask me, Baby Girl. I don't know either."

What I do know is, Hilly and her family drove in this morning from a weekend in Memphis. Whenever Miss Hilly gone, that's all Miss Leefolt talk about is where she is and when she coming back.

"Come on, Baby Girl," I say after while. "Let's take a walk, find out what's going on."

We walk up Devine, turn left, then left again, and up Miss Hilly's street, which is Myrtle. Even though it's August, it's a nice walk, ain't too hot yet. Birds is zipping around, singing. Mae Mobley holding my hand and we swinging our arms having a good ole time. Lots a cars pa.s.sing us today, which is strange, cause Myrtle a dead end.

We turn the bend to Miss Hilly's great big white house. And there they is.

Mae Mobley point and laugh. "Look. Look, Aibee!"

I have never in my life seen a thing like this. Three dozen of em. Pots. Right smack on Miss Hilly's lawn. All different colors and shapes and sizes. Some is blue, some is pink, some is white. Some ain't got no ring, some ain't got no tank. They's old ones, young ones, chain on top, and flush with the handle. Almost look like a crowd a people the way some got they lids open talking, some with they lids closed listening.

We move over into the drain ditch, cause the traffic on this little street's starting to build up. People is driving down, circling round the little island a gra.s.s at the end with they windows down. Laughing out loud saying, "Look at Hilly's house," "Look at those things." Staring at them toilets like they never seen one before.

"One, two, three," Mae Mobley start counting em. She get to twelve and I got to take over. "Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one. Thirty-two commodes, Baby Girl."

We get a little closer and now I see they ain't just all over the yard. They's two in the driveway side-by-side, like they a couple. They's one up on the front step, like it's waiting for Miss Hilly to answer the door.

"Ain't that one funny with the--"

But Baby Girl done broke off from my hand. She running in the yard and get to the pink pot in the middle and pull up the lid. Before I know it, she done pulled down her panties and tinkled in it and I'm chasing after her with half a dozen horns honking and a man in a hat taking pictures.

Miss Leefolt's car's in the drive behind Miss Hilly's, but they ain't in sight. They must be inside yelling about what they gone do with this mess. Curtains is drawn and I don't see no stirring. I cross my fingers, hope they didn't catch Baby Girl making potty for half a Jackson to see. It's time to go on back.

The whole way home, Baby Girl is asking questions bout them pots. Why they there? Where they come from? Can she go see Heather and play with them toilets some more?

When I get back to Miss Leefolt's, the phone rings off the hook the rest a the morning. I don't answer it. I'm waiting for it to stop long enough so I can call Minny. But when Miss Leefolt slam into the kitchen, she get to yapping on the phone a million miles a hour. Don't take me long to get the story pieced together listening to her.

Miss Skeeter done printed Hilly's toilet announcement in the newsletter alright. The list a them reasons why white folk and colored folk can't be sharing a seat. And then, below that, she follow with the alert about the coat drive too, or at least that's what she was supposed to do. Stead a coats though, it say something like "Drop off your old toilets at 228 Myrtle Street. We'll be out of town, but leave them in front by the door." She just get one word mixed up, that's all. I spec that's what she gone say, anyway.

TOO bad FOR Miss HILLY there wasn't no other news going on. Nothing on Vietnam or the draft. They already say all they can about the church blown up in Alabama, killing those poor colored girls. Next day, Miss Hilly's house with all them pots makes the front page a the Jackson Journal. Jackson Journal. I got to say, it is a funny-looking sight. I just wish it was in color so you could compare all them shades a pink and blue and white. Desegregation of the toilet bowls is what they should a call it. I got to say, it is a funny-looking sight. I just wish it was in color so you could compare all them shades a pink and blue and white. Desegregation of the toilet bowls is what they should a call it.

The headline say, COME On BY, HAVE a SEAT! They ain't no article to go with it. Just the picture and a little caption saying, "The home of Hilly and William Holbrook, of Jackson, Mississippi, was a sight to see this morning."

And I don't mean nothing going on just in Jackson, I mean nothing in the entire United States. Lottie Freeman, who work at the governor's mansion where they get all the big papers, told me she saw it in the Living section a The New York Times. The New York Times. And in every one of em it read, "Home of Hilly and William Holbrook, Jackson, Mississippi." And in every one of em it read, "Home of Hilly and William Holbrook, Jackson, Mississippi."

AT Miss LEEFOLT'S, they's lots a extra talking on the telephone that week, lot a head-nodding like Miss Leefolt getting a earful from Miss Hilly. Part a me want a laugh about them pots, other part want a cry. It was a awful big risk for Miss Skeeter to take, turning Miss Hilly against her. She coming home tonight from Natchez, and I hope she call. I reckon now I know why she went.

On Thursday morning, I still ain't heard from Miss Skeeter. I set up my ironing in the living room. Miss Leefolt come home with Miss Hilly and they set at the dining room table. I ain't seen Miss Hilly over here since before the pots. I reckon she ain't leaving the house so much. I turn the tee-vee set down low, keep my ear turned up.

"Here it is. Here's what I told you about." Miss Hilly got a little booklet opened up. She running her finger along the lines. Miss Leefolt shaking her head.

"You know what this means, don't you? She wants to change these laws. Why else would she be carrying them around?"

"I can't believe this," say Miss Leefolt.

"I can't prove she put those pots in my yard. But this"--she holds up the book and taps it--"this is solid proof she's up to something. And I intend to tell Stuart Whitworth, too."

"But they're not steady anymore."

"Well, he still needs to know. In case he has any inclination of patching things up with her. For the sake of Senator Whitworth's career."

"But maybe it really was a mistake, the newsletter. Maybe she--"

"Elizabeth." Hilly cross her arms up. "I'm not talking about pots. I am talking about the laws of this great state. Now, I want you to ask yourself, do you want Mae Mobley sitting next to a colored boy in English cla.s.s?" Miss Hilly glance back at me doing my ironing. She lower her voice but Miss Hilly never knew how to whisper good. "Do you want Nigra people living right here in this neighborhood? Touching your bottom when you pa.s.s on the street?"

I look up and see it's starting to sink in on Miss Leefolt. She straighten up all prim and proper.

"William had a fit when he saw what she did to our house and I can't soil my name hanging around her anymore, not with the election coming up. I've already asked Jeanie Caldwell to take Skeeter's place in bridge club."

"You kicked her out of bridge club?"

"I sure did. And I thought about kicking her out of the League, too."

"Can you even do that?"

"Of course I can. But I've decided I want her to sit in that room and see what a fool she's made of herself." Miss Hilly nods. "She needs to learn that she can't carry on this way. I mean, around us it's one thing, but around some other people, she's going to get in big trouble."

"It's true. There are some racists in this town," Miss Leefolt say.

Miss Hilly nod her head, "Oh, they're out there."

After while, they get up and drive off together. I am glad I don't have to see they faces for a while.

AT NOONTIME, Mister Leefolt come home for lunch, which is rare. He set down at the little breakfast table. "Aibileen, make me up some lunch, would you please." He lift the newspaper, pop the spine to get it straight. "I'll have some roast beef."

"Yessir." I set down a placemat and a napkin and some silverware for him. He tall and real thin. Won't be too long fore he all bald. Got a black ring round his head and nothing on top.

"You staying on to help Elizabeth with the new baby?" he asks, reading his paper. Generally, he don't ever pay me no mind.

"Yessir." I say.

"Because I hear you like to move around a lot."

"Yessir," I say. It's true. Most maids stay with the same family all they lives, but not me. I got my own reasons for moving on when they about eight, nine years old. Took me a few jobs to learn that. "I work best with the babies."

"So you don't really consider yourself a maid. You're more of a nurse-type for the children." He puts his paper down, looks at me. "You're a specialist, like me."

I don't say nothing, just nod a little.

"See, I only do taxes for businesses, not every individual that's filing a tax return."

I'm getting nervous. This the most he ever talk to me and I been here three years.

"Must be hard finding a new job every time the kids get old enough for school."

"Something always come along."

He don't say nothing to that, so I go head and get the roast out.

"Got to keep up good references, moving around to different clientele like you do."

"Yessir."

"I hear you know Skeeter Phelan. Old friend of Elizabeth's."

I keep my head down. Real slow, I get to slicing, slicing, slicing the meat off that loin. My heart's pumping triple speed now.

"She ask me for cleaning tips sometimes. For the article."

"That right?" Mister Leefolt say.

"Yessir. She just ask me for tips."

"I don't want you talking to that woman anymore, not for cleaning tips, not to say h.e.l.lo, you hear?"

"Yessir."

"I hear about you two talking and you'll be in a heap of trouble. You understand?"

"Yessir," I whisper, wondering what this man know.

Mister Leefolt pick up his newspaper again. "I'll have that meat in a sandwich. Put a little mayonnaise on it. And not too toasted, I don't want it dry now."

THAT NIGHT, me and Minny's setting at my kitchen table. My hands started shaking this afternoon and ain't quit since.

"That ugly white fool," Minny say.

"I just wish I knew what he thinking."

They's a knock on the back door and Minny and me both look at each other. Only one person knock on my door like that, everbody else just come on in. I open it and there Miss Skeeter. "Minny here," I whisper, cause it's always safer to know when you gone walk in a room with Minny.

I'm glad she here. I got so much to tell her I don't even know where to start. But I'm surprised to see Miss Skeeter got something close to a smile on her face. I guess she ain't talk to Miss Hilly yet.

"h.e.l.lo, Minny," she say when she step inside.

Minny look over at the window. "h.e.l.lo, Miss Skeeter."

Fore I can get a word in, Miss Skeeter set down and start right in.

"I had some ideas while I was away. Aibileen, I think we should lead with your chapter first." She pull some papers out a that tacky red satchel. "And then Louvenia's we'll switch with Faye Belle's story, since we don't want three dramatic stories in a row. The middle we'll sort out later, but Minny, I think your section should definitely come last."

"Miss Skeeter . . . I got some things to tell you," I say.

Minny and me look at each other. "I'm on go," Minny say, frowning like her chair gotten too hard to sit in. She head for the door, but on her way out, she give Miss Skeeter a touch on the shoulder, real quick, keep her eyes straight like she ain't done it. Then she gone.

"You been out a town awhile, Miss Skeeter." I rub the back a my neck.

Then I tell her that Miss Hilly pulled that booklet out and showed it to Miss Leefolt. And Law knows who else she pa.s.sing it around town to now.

Miss Skeeter nod, say, "I can handle Hilly. This doesn't implicate you, or the other maids, or the book at all."

And then I tell her what Mister Leefolt say, how he real clear that I ain't to talk to her no more about the cleaning article. I don't want a tell her these things, but she gone hear em and I want her to hear em from me first.

She listen careful, ask a few questions. When I'm done, she say, "He's full of hot air, Raleigh. I'll have to be extra careful, though, when I go over to Elizabeth's. I won't come in the kitchen anymore," and I can tell, this ain't really hitting her, what's happening. The trouble she in with her friends. How scared we need to be. I tell her what Miss Hilly say about letting her suffer through the League. I tell her she been kicked out a bridge club. I tell her that Miss Hilly gone tell Mister Stuart all about it, just in case he get any "inclination" to mend things with her.

Skeeter look away from me, try to smile. "I don't care about any of that ole stuff, anyway." She kind a laugh and it hurts my heart. Cause everbody care. Black, white, deep down we all do.

"I just . . . I rather you hear it from me than in town," I say. "So you know what's coming. So you can be real careful."

She bite her lip, nod. "Thank you, Aibileen."

chapter 23.

THE SUMMER rolls behind us like a hot tar spreader. Ever colored person in Jackson gets in front a whatever tee-vee set they can find, watches Martin Luther King stand in our nation's capital and tell us he's got a dream. I'm in the church bas.e.m.e.nt watching. Our own Reverend Johnson went up there to march and I find myself scanning the crowd for his face. I can't believe so many peoples is there--two-hundred-fifty thousand. thousand. And the ringer is, sixty thousand a them is And the ringer is, sixty thousand a them is white. white.

"Mississippi and the world is two very different places," the Deacon say and we all nod cause ain't it the truth.

We get through August and September and ever time I see Miss Skeeter, she look thinner, a little more skittish in the eyes. She try to smile like it ain't that hard on her that she ain't got no friends left.

In October, Miss Hilly sets at Miss Leefolt's dining room table. Miss Leefolt so pregnant she can't barely focus her eyes. Meanwhile, Miss Hilly got a big fur around her neck even though it's sixty degrees outside. She stick her pinky out from her tea gla.s.s and say, "Skeeter thought she was so clever, dumping all those toilets in my front yard. Well, they're working out just fine. We've already installed three of them in people's garages and sheds. Even William said it was a blessing in disguise."

I ain't gone tell Miss Skeeter this. That she ended up supporting the cause she fighting against. But then I see it don't matter cause Miss Hilly say, "I decided I'd write Skeeter a thank-you note last night. Told her how she's helped move the project along faster than it ever would've gone."

WITH Miss LEEFOLT SO BUSY making clothes for the new baby, Mae Mobley and me spend pretty much ever minute a the day together. She getting too big for me to carry her all the time, or maybe I'm too big. I try and give her a lot a good squeezes instead.

"Come tell me my secret story," she whisper, smiling so big. She always want her secret story now, first thing when I get in. The secret stories are the ones I be making up.

But then Miss Leefolt come in with her purse on her arm, ready to leave. "Mae Mobley, I'm leaving now. Come give Mama a big hug."

But Mae Mobley don't move.

Miss Leefolt, she got a hand on her hip, waiting for her sugar. "Go on, Mae Mobley," I whisper. I nudge her and she go hug her mama real hard, kinda desperate-like, but Miss Leefolt, she already looking in her purse for her keys, kind a wiggle off. It don't seem to bother Mae Mobley so much, though, like it used to, and that's what I can't hardly look at.

"Come on, Aibee," Mae Mobley say to me after her mama gone. "Time for my secret story."

We go on in her room, where we like to set. I get up in the big chair and she get up on me and smile, bounce a little. "Tell me, tell me bout the brown wrapping. And the present." She so excited, she squirming. She has to jump off my lap, squirm a little to get it out. Then she crawl back up.