"I don't understand.... Don't the colored people down here read a great deal also?"
"No," said the other simply.
"Well, I declare!" said Sidney in surprise. "I have only two hours or less ago, been told by a book-seller that they do."
"Lordy me! Who told you that?"
"Tompkins. The—"
"Tompkins is a booster. He's all right, though," said the other, with a low, amused laugh. But Sidney's curiosity was aroused, and he continued:
"There's a multitude of teachers and preachers, and I should think they would buy lots of current literature to keep themselves informed for their work; but perhaps they are not so well paid, and get it from the library." The other appeared perplexed for a moment, but said presently, without looking up:
"They have no library of their own, and the city library is not open to colored people, but they do not seem to be very anxious for books. The teachers, and the preachers—" He threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "You'll find out for yourself. You are, I see, a keen observer, and you'll find out."
Sidney left the store in a reflective frame of mind. "I didn't believe Tompkins," he muttered, as he walked back in the direction of Audubon Avenue. Just then he glanced to his left, into the largest barber shop he had ever seen. It was for white people, but conducted by a colored man. It was not only the largest he had ever seen, but the finest, the most artistic. He forgot, for the time, what he had just been told, and which was causing him some concern, and again he felt his breast swell.
There was much to be learned about his people that he now realized he did not know; and yet, surrounding it all was a peculiar mystery that he decided to solve for himself. He did so, but that remains to be told.