“I don’t want to see him.”
Here Uncle Elmer took a hand, using the familiar tactics. “Of course, I can understand that—Philip’s not wanting to see him.” He grimaced suddenly at Emma to let him manage it. “I’ll speak to Reverend Castor myself. I’ll explain about Philip’s condition.”
For a second Philip grew hot with anger; he even pushed back his chair from the table as if to rise and leave. It was, oddly enough, Aunt Mabelle who restrained him. He fancied he caught a sudden twinkle in her round eyes, and the anger subsided.
Another painful silence followed, in which Rose, the negro maid-of-all-work, placed the Floating Island violently before Aunt Mabelle to be served. The room grew darker and darker, and presently Uncle Elmer said, “I suppose, Philip, if you intend to stay here you’ll be looking for some sort of work. It will mean, of course, starting life all over again.”
“Yes.”
“Of course you could teach—a young man with a good education like yours. It cost your mother a lot of work and trouble to educate you.”
“Yes.”
“But if you can’t get such work right away, I could make a place in the factory for you. Of course,” and here Uncle Elmer smiled his most condescending smile, “of course, with your kind of training you wouldn’t be much good at first. You’d have to learn the business from the ground up. You could begin in the shipping department.”
It was the first time any of them had admitted even a chance of his not returning to Africa; but they did not mean to yield, for Emma said, “That perhaps would help him over this nervous trouble.”
And then Philip shattered everything with an unexpected announcement. It was as if a bomb had exploded in the dust and shadows beneath the table.