Thank You Ma'am

The boy wanted to say something else other than “Thank you, m’am” to Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones, but he couldn’t do so as he turned at the barren stoop and looked back at the large woman in the door.

When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones.”

But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse.

But the boy’s weight and the weight of the purse combined caused him to lose his balance so, instead of taking off full blast as he had hoped, the boy fell on his back on the sidewalk, and his legs flew up.

“But you put yourself in contact with me,” said the woman.

He looked as if he were fourteen or fifteen, frail and willow-wild, in tennis shoes and blue jeans.

When she got to her door, she dragged the boy inside, down a hall, and into a large kitchenette-furnished room at the rear of the house.

But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse.

She was a large woman with a large purse that had everything in it but hammer and nails.

She did not release him.

But she bent down enough to permit him to stoop and pick up her purse.

Sweat popped out on the boy’s face and he began to struggle.

She switched on the light and left the door open.