"I do not know that we do," papa said, after a pause.
"Papa, think. What would you say to our, or anybody's, holding white men in slavery - making them work without wages - and forcing them to obey under the lash?"
"They are an inferior race, Daisy," papa answered again after a pause. His voice showed he did not enjoy the conversation; but it was needful for me to go on.
"Papa, they have been kept down. But suppose they were inferior, - since Christ died for them, does He not love them?"
"I have no doubt of it."
"Then, papa, what will He say to us, for keeping those whom He loves and died for, at arms' length or under our feet? and what will He say to us for keeping them out of the good He died to give them?"
"We do not, Daisy! They have their religious privileges."
"Papa, I have lived among them as you never did. They may not meet together to pray, on pain of the lash. They cannot have Bibles, for they are not allowed to read. They have no family life; for husbands and wives and parents and children are parted and torn from each other at the will or for the interest of their owners. They live like the animals."
"Not on my estates!" said papa, rousing himself again. "There is no selling and buying of the people there."
"Pete's wife was forcibly taken from him, papa, and then sent
South."