"How plain you make everything."
"And now we have come unto the church, and must end our conversation."
"I'm sorry."
He was, too, but they filed into the little church.
In and around where they now sat, there was quite a settlement of Negroes, mostly small farmers. Perhaps it was due to the inspiration of the successful Grey. She had, earlier in the evening, pointed out here and there where a Negro family owned five acres; where somewhere else they lived on and farmed ten acres and fifteen acres and so on. After slavery there had been a tendency on the part of the Negro to continue in the industrious ways he had been left in by his former master. The cultivation was strong; but strangely there had come a desire to go into town to see, and to loaf. Perhaps it was because he had not been given such a privilege during the days of bondage. But here in this little valley of the Kaw, he was cheered to see his race on a practical and sensible basis. Only in the pursuit of agriculture can the black man not complain that he is discriminated against on account of his color.
When the service was over, they walked leisurely homeward, and their conversation became more intimate. The feeling of a woman by his side thrilled Jean Baptiste. In his life on the prairies, this had never been afforded, so to him it was something new, and something gloriously sweet. Or was it her presence? At least he was moved. He decided that he would go his way soon, because it was dangerous for him to linger in her radiating presence without regretting what fate had willed.
"Isn't it warm tonight?" she said, when they reached the porch.
"Dreadfully so down here in your valley."
"Perhaps you will not care to retire, and would rather sit out where the air is best," she suggested.
"I would be glad to."