“What has that woman got to do with it?” he snapped. “Does she expect me to buy trucks to haul all the negro children in town on pleasure trips?”
Violent paroxysms beset Ike and bent him as a sapling in a gale.
Obadiah’s eyes glared at the black neck as if, discharging X-rays, they might expose the chauffeur’s malady.
Heedless of disturbing influences, Virginia went on, “Hennie thought that this car was too small. She felt that it would be better to get a truck which would carry all the orphans than to use this.”
“Indeed!” interjected Obadiah.
“I suggested to her that I would get you to loan us a truck from the mill; but Hennie said that she was sure that you wouldn’t let us have it.”
“Ahem–ahem,” choked the mill owner, getting red in the face.
“I told her that I knew you would be glad to let us have it because you did so love to help people,” explained Virginia with great pride.
Obadiah shifted uneasily in his seat. “What did she say?”
“Hennie said that she wished me success.”