"He surely can."
It was on the point of Anton's tongue to suggest that the colored artist should be admitted to the membership of the club, but, so far, its membership had been confined to the white boys, largely in deference to the feelings of the older people of the neighborhood, many of whom remembered the difficulties that followed the reconstruction period after the Civil War.
Anton looked a little troubled.
"Do you think we ought to get mixed up in a thing like this?" he asked.
The Forecaster glanced at him.
"You mean because Cæsar is a negro?"
"Yes, sir," the crippled lad replied.
"I don't want to persuade you one way or the other," the Weather Man replied, "but I can tell you how I feel about it. I don't see that it matters very much what point of view a fellow has on the color question, we're all agreed that the darkies should be given every chance. You certainly can't harm yourself by helping any one, no matter who it is that you help."
"Sure," Ross agreed.
"And even if the person you help is never going to be able to do you any good, why, that's all the more reason for helping, isn't it?"