"This gentleman is from a more pious territory," said the porter, appreciatively. He seemed to be very intelligent.
"What kind of work do the genemen follow?" asked the hostess.
"Books," Wyeth replied.
"They don't read much down here," she said, dubiously.
"Some do everywhere—more or less!"
"They are strongly engaged in the art of having a good time here," remarked the porter, and laughed.
"I suppose so," said Wyeth. "And, since practically half of the colored people of the state are illiterate, I am, of course, compelled to agree with you."
They talked on other topics now, and Wyeth, not feeling sleepy, suggested venturing out sight seeing. He went alone, and what he saw, he did not soon forget.
When the door had closed behind him, and his steps died away in the distance, the fat man winked and the woman smiled; then the pair spoke, in the same breath:
"Books—huh! He he! Books—huh! He he!" They regarded the porter with a smile; but he did not, strange to say, share their point of view. But they had their say, nevertheless.