Mae Mobley stare up at her daddy. “I don’t know.” She looks off at a board game laying on the floor, like she might get to playing it again. I seen her do that, I know what she thinking. She think if she get busy with something else and ignore him, he might just go away.

“Mae Mobley, your daddy asked you a question. Where did you learn about things like that?” He bend down to her. I can’t see his face, but I know he smiling cause Mae Mobley all shylike, all Baby Girl loves her daddy. And then she say loud and clear:

“Miss Taylor did.”

Mister Leefolt straighten up. Goes into the kitchen and I’m following. He turns Miss Leefolt around by the shoulders and says: “Tomorrow. You go down to that school and put Mae Mobley in a different class. No more Miss Taylor.”

“What? I can’t just change her teacher—”

I hold my breath, pray, Yes, you can. Please.

“Just do it.” And like mens do, Mister Raleigh Leefolt walk out the door where he don’t have to give nobody no explanation about nothing.

All DAY SUNDAY, I can’t stop thanking God for getting Baby Girl away from Miss Taylor. Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God rings in my head like a chant. On Monday morning, Miss Leefolt head off to Mae Mobley’s school, all dressed up, and I have to smile, knowing what she going off to do.

While Miss Leefolt’s gone, I get to work on Miss Hilly’s silver. Miss Leefolt’s got it laid out on the kitchen table from the luncheon yesterday. I wash it and spend the next hour polishing it, wondering how one-arm Ernestine do it. Polishing Grand Baroque with all its loops and curls is a two-arm job.

When Miss Leefolt get back, she put her purse up on the table and tsk. “Oh, I meant to return that silver this morning but I had to go to Mae Mobley’s school and I just know she’s getting a cold because she was sneezing all morning long and now it’s almost ten o’clock . . .”

“Mae Mobley getting sick?”

“Probably.” Miss Leefolt roll her eyes. “Oh, I’m late for my hair appointment. When you’re finished polishing, go ahead and walk that silver on over to Hilly’s for me. I’ll be back after lunch.”

When I’m done, I wrap all a Miss Hilly’s silver up in the blue cloth. I go get Li’l Man out a bed. He just woke up from his nap and he blink at me and smile.

“Come on, Li’l Man, let’s get you a new diaper.” I put him up on the changing table and take off the wet one and Lord almighty if there ain’t three tinker toys and one a Miss Leefolt’s bobby pins in there. Thank the Lord it was just a wet diaper and not the other.

“Boy,” I laugh, “you like Fort Knox.” He grin and laugh. He point at the crib and I go over and poke through the blanket and sho nuff, there’s a hair roller, a measuring spoon, and a dinner napkin. Law, we gone have to do something about this. But not now. I got to get over to Miss Hilly’s.

I lock Li’l Man in the stroller and push him down the street over to Miss Hilly’s house. It’s hot and sunny and quiet. We stroll up her drive and Ernestine open the door. She got a skinny little brown nub that poke out the left sleeve. I don’t know her well, except she like to talk a fair amount. She go to the Methodist church.

“Hey Aibileen,” she say.

“Hey Ernestine, you must a seen me coming.”

She nods and looks down at Li’l Man. He watching that nub like he scared it’s gone get him.

“I come out here fore she do,” Ernestine whisper and then she say, “I guess you heard.”

“Heard what?”

Ernestine look behind her, then lean down. “Flora Lou’s white lady, Miss Hester? She give it to Flora Lou this morning.”

“She fired her?” Flora Lou had some bad stories to tell. She angry. Miss Hester who everbody think is real sweet, she give Flora a special “hand wash” to use ever morning. Ends up it was straight bleach. Flora showed me the burn scar.

Ernestine shake her head. “Miss Hester pull that book out and start yelling, ‘Is this me? Is this me you wrote about?’ and Flora Lou say, ‘No ma’am, I didn’t write no book. I ain’t even finished the fifth grade’ but Miss Hester go into a fit yelling, ‘I didn’t know Clorox burned the skin, I didn’t know the minimum wage was a dollar twenty-five, if Hilly wasn’t telling everybody it’s not Jackson I’d fire you so quick your head would spin,’ so Flora Lou say, ‘You mean I’m not fired?’ and Miss Hester scream, ‘Fired? I can’t fire you or people will know I’m Chapter Ten. You’re stuck working here for the rest of your life.’ And then Miss Hester lay her head on the table and tell Flora Lou to finish the dishes.”

“Law,” I say, feeling dizzy. “I hope . . . they all turn out that good.”

Back in the house, Miss Hilly hollers Ernestine’s name. “I wouldn’t count on it,” Ernestine whisper. I hand Ernestine the heavy cloth full a silver. She reaches out with her good hand to take it, and I guess out a habit, her nub reach out too.

THAT NIGHT, there’s a terrible storm. The thunder’s booming and I’m at my kitchen table sweating. I’m shaking, trying to write my prayers. Flora Lou got lucky, but what’s gone happen next? It’s just too much not knowing and worrying and—

Thunk thunk thunk. Somebody knocking on my front door.

Who that? I sit up straight. The clock over the stove say eight thirty-five. Outside, the rain is blowing hard. Anybody who know me good would use the back door.

I tiptoe to the front. They knock again, and I bout jump out a my shoes.

“Who—who is it?” I say. I check that the lock is on.

“It’s me.”

Law. I let out a breath and open the front door. There’s Miss Skeeter, wet and shivering. Her red satchel’s under her raincoat.

“Lord have mercy—”

“I couldn’t make it to the back door. The yard’s so thick with mud I couldn’t get through.”

She barefoot and holding her muddy shoes in her hand. I close the door quick behind her. “Nobody see you, did they?”

“You can’t see a thing out there. I would’ve called but the phone’s out with the storm.”

I know something must a happened, but I’m just so glad to see her face before she leaves for New York. We ain’t seen each other in person in six months. I give her a good hug.

“Law, let me see your hair.” Miss Skeeter pull back her hood, shake out her long hair past her shoulders.

“It is beautiful,” I say and I mean it.

She smile like she embarrassed and set her satchel on the floor. “Mother hates it.”

I laugh and then take a big breath, trying to get ready for whatever bad thing she got to tell me.

“The stores are asking for more books, Aibileen. Missus Stein called this afternoon.” She take my hands. “They’re going to do another print run. Five thousand more copies.”

I just look at her. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t even know they could do that,” I say and I cover my mouth. Our book is setting in five thousand houses, on they bookshelves, next to they night tables, behind they toilets?

“There’ll be more money coming. At least one hundred dollars to each of you. And who knows? Maybe there’ll be more.”

I put my hand on my heart. I ain’t spent a cent a the first sixty-one dollars and now she telling me they’s more?

“And there’s something else.” Miss Skeeter look down at the satchel. “I went to the paper on Friday and quit the Miss Myrna job.” She takes a deep breath. “And I told Mr. Golden, I think the next Miss Myrna should be you.”

“Me?”

“I told him you’ve been giving me the answers all along. He said he’d think about it and today he called me and said yes, as long as you don’t tell anybody and you write the answers like Miss Myrna did.”

She pull a blue-cloth notebook out a her satchel, hand it to me. “He said he’ll pay you the same as me, ten dollars a week.”