Thin streaks of white clouds raced across the sky, and the pale sun threw out little heat. Veteran New Yorkers, recognizing the signs, began to dig out heavy winter clothes and stock up on coal and wood. Soon winter would come and bring with it paralyzing cold that the poor could not easily escape but from which the affluent could take refuge in their elaborate, well-warmed homes. Clint had taken an interest in the small vegetable garden Jamie had planted outside the kitchen door in the spring and had gone out to dig the sweet potatoes. Kat, who had become an almost constant companion, had joined him. When she was not at her studies, she would often put on her worn overalls and ragged straw hat to follow him while he worked. Clint had discovered that the girl had a feel for growing things, and since he had the same gift, he enjoyed her company. Now he drove the turning fork into the ground and pulled up a forkful of loamy earth. When he turned it upside down, the potatoes spilled to one side, and Kat snatched them and put them into a large basket.
