"I've had to eat at the same table with a negro. That must be changed. What will you do about it?"
"Do about it," answered the surgeon. "You will do one of two things—go and apologize to a better man than you are, or walk out of this hospital."
Recently this black helper came to the director in distress of mind.
"Have to leave you," he said. He held out a letter from the motor car firm, near Paris, where he he had worked before the war. It was a request for him to return at once. If he did not obey now in this time of need, it meant there would never be any position for him after the war as long as he lived.
A day or two later he came again.
"My old woman and I have been talking it over," he said, "and I just can't leave this work for the wounded. We'll get along some way."
A little more time passed, and then, one day, he stepped up to the director and said:
"I want you to meet my boss."
The superintendent of the motor car factory had come. He said to the director:
"I have received the most touching letter from this darkey, saying he couldn't come back to us because he must help here. Now I want to tell you that his position is open to him any time that he wants it, during the war, or after it."