"The Chinese?" he said, affecting to misunderstand the cry. "You've come to the right shop if you want a good little talk on that question. As I told Senator Morton the other day, I'm the original Chinese exclusionist--not excepting Bill Nye and Truthful James. Ask the reporters to take a front seat."
I had never suspected Wharton Kendrick of oratorical ability, but he showed all the arts of the stump speaker, and with a few pat anecdotes stated his position, and appealed to the men to trust the settlement of the problem to the substantial men of the State.
The leaders of the mob were quick to see the danger to their schemes, and tried several interruptions, which Kendrick blandly ignored. At last one of them shouted as comment on his profession of faith:
"Then why don't you discharge your Chinese help?"
This thrust renewed the cries of anger from the mob, and a wolfish look came on the faces about me.
"Why," returned Kendrick with a jovial laugh, "for the same reason that the rabbit couldn't cut off his tail--because he didn't have one. I don't know any reason why I shouldn't hire a Chinese cook if I wanted one, as long as they are permitted to come into the country; but I don't want one. My servants are all white."
The reply raised a laugh, and a few enthusiastic rioters shouted "Hooray for Kendrick!"
"Shut up, you fools!" cried the leaders; and the voice that had called on Kendrick to discharge his Chinese shouted:
"It's a lie about there not being any Chinese in de house!"
"The honorable gentleman has forgotten to speak the truth," retorted Kendrick good-humoredly. "I keep no Chinese."