"A library could be obtained, if the conditions here were brought to the attention of the northern philanthropists," he suggested to Miss Palmer, whereupon she cried:
"Oh, Mr. Wyeth, you bore me with your contention about libraries and parks and Y.M.C.A.'s and the like. These nigga's in Effingham are not worrying about such things; so why should you, a stranger, a mere observer, be so concerned!"
"Because, Miss Palmer, I cannot help but see all this murder and crime going on, which is undermining the foundation of colored society. Every day, when my paper comes, it's murder, murder, murder, and fully ninety per cent is among our people, although only two-fifths of the population is Negro."
"Haven't I told you all along, that the crime is among the low down, whiskey drinking, depraved element, and not among the best people?"
"Yes, but this country cannot exist in peace and prosperity and happiness; nor can this race, with the greater part ignorant, criminal and depraved. The more intelligent have, for their duty, the task of helping in any way possible, and by so doing, lift these unfortunates into a state of intelligence and self-respect."
"Well," she contended, resignedly, "that is for the churches to do, there's enough of them."
"And the teachers, because they are looked to, should help as much as they can with their higher intelligence, for the mothers are too ignorant and too depraved to do so. But of the many churches, of which seventy are Baptist, not one has any connection or interest in a school here, directly or indirectly."
"I begin to think you are going to lose your mind, if you don't quit seeing the many iniquities of our people. If you would only see what the good people are doing, and try to interest yourself more in them, you would be happier," she said. He sighed now, and then said to himself: "What's the use."
"Quit it all, Sidney," she said softly, calling him for the first time by his first name. "Quit all this worry about these nigga's and be yourself; be sweet." And she kissed him.