“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’m an idiot to think of such things. And it is only kindness, I know, that prompts you to show me my absolute incapacity and impracticability. Only—well, it’s a bit jarring to my vanity.”
“That’s not kind,” she answered. “I’ve said nothing about incapacity. I know you’re not incapable; Phil has told us enough about you to prove that, Mr. North. And I reckon you’re very practical. Maybe you could come here and buy land and make it pay you; I think you could if any Northerner could. There,” she smiled, “does your vanity feel better?”
“Much, thank you.”
“But,” she continued, serious again, “I don’t think even you could do it. We’re different from you people; we do things differently; we’re slower and easier-going; I reckon we’re what you say we are—shiftless.”
John strove to expostulate, but she went on:
“But it’s our way—the way we were taught and brought up and the way we’re used to. And you’d have trouble with your hands, too. Negroes aren’t what they were once; they’re shiftless and lazy, and won’t work except when they have to—at least, that’s true of the negroes around here. Good overseers are hard to find, Mr. North, and there aren’t many at the best. If you could find one, perhaps—— But I wouldn’t make the experiment.”
“Thank you. I’ve no doubt but that what you say is true; I’m sure you must know if any one does. Although,” he added, “it sounds odd to hear you talking about these things so intimately.”
“I suppose it does, but I’ve learned them; and I’ve seen one or two experiments of the sort you speak of tried hereabouts. At least, you must acknowledge that I am disinterested, Mr. North. I might have encouraged you and then sold you part of Elaine. You know it is for sale?”
“Yes,” answered John, “I know. It’s a shame, Miss Ryerson. I shouldn’t think you could stand the thought of—of parting with it.”
“I can’t. And so I don’t think of it—much.”