I was doing my morning work with help from my newest friends. We were talking while we were working. Then, I started singing a song.

"Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot. Coming for to carry me home-"

"You sing good, Sally!" Annie said.

"Thanks, sing with me. You know the song? Swing Low, Sweet Chariot?"

Some nodded, some didn't.

"I looked over Jordan and what did I see. Coming for to carry me home. A band of angels coming after me. Coming for to carry me home-"

We were stopped by Mrs. Fletcher.

"Children, I'm here to inform you that Mr. Fletcher will be back this evening."

"Yes ma'am, thank you."

"And what were you singing, out of curiosity?"

"Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, ma'am. A negro spiritual. Been around for years. Grandma taught it to me. She was born a slave," I said.

She nodded.

"Is there anything wrong with singing at work?"

"No, not at all! As a matter of fact, me and Mr. Fletcher like to sing. He like hearing you children sing while working, it's music to his ears. He has a soft spot for music."

"Me too, Mrs. Fletcher."

"Really?"

"I think me and him have a lot in common."

"I agree with you, Miss. Sally! You two will actually get along great together."

I nodded in agreement. 

"Alright, I'll leave you to the rest of your morning work."

She left.