“Why, you impudent darky!”
“Oh, John, please!”
Then Douglass saw that behind the man and, until that moment hidden by him, was a little woman, the thin, gray strands of her hair partly concealed by a poke bonnet, her blue eyes now wide with alarm.
“Oh,” said Douglass, rising, “excuse me, madam. Would you like my seat?”
The bully’s mouth dropped open. For a moment the unexpected words struck him dumb.
“Why—why—I—” the woman stammered.
“Shut up!” The man had recovered his breath. “Don’t talk to that nigger. I’ll knock his teeth down his black throat if he says another word.”
Frederick smiled at the woman.
“As I said, I have my ticket. But there are plenty of seats. I’ll gladly vacate this one for a lady.”
He moved quickly, catching his assailant’s blow with a swing of his arm, and brushed past before the man could recover himself. Douglass went on down the aisle. Behind him the man cursed.