"I've often hoped so, and maybe one of these days my hopes will be realized. So you didn't call him a murderer? You lost a great opportunity. Don't be offensive to him again, Evie," she said quietly.
Evie did not reply. When Christina spoke in that tone of voice she was frightened of her.
"What is Ambrose doing now?"
"I don't know—in the kitchen, I suppose, guzzling food. And I'm starving! But I won't sit down at the same table as a black man, I won't!"
"Don't be a fool, Evie. Go down and get some food. You can bring it up here and eat it. And, Evie—Ambrose is a very dear friend of mine and I dislike hearing you call him a 'black man'. He is almost as white as you and I. His great grandfather was an Indian."
"If you don't like to hear me say unpleasant things about your friends, don't say them about mine."
Here, Evie thought, not without reason, that she had a point which was worth laboring. She was astonished when Christina surrendered without firing another shot.
"Perhaps you are right, dear. Go and get something to eat."
Evie returned almost immediately with the news that the kitchen was empty and that she had seen one whom she was pleased to describe as "the enemy" bending over a wash-tub, his arms white with lather.
"Do you think he is making up to mother?" she asked, as that interesting possibility presented itself.