"You mean whiskey?"
"Yes, and worse. You have heard of 'coke'?"
"Cocaine powder?"
"Yes."
"'Happy dust' the darkies call it," added Betty. "Last month father forbade Campion to ever come on the place again."
Warriner looked interested. "I suppose Campion resented the exclusion," he remarked. But on this point Betty could say nothing; Mr. Graeme had merely told her that the negro peddler had been warned off the "Hundred" property.
"He is a smart nigger," explained Warriner. "And so light in color that you would hardly suspect the dash of the tar brush, as the English say. He was educated at Hampton-Sidney, and talks just like a white man—rather proud of it, too—but worthless in every way, and a menace to the community."
"Education then isn't any guarantee of morality among the negroes," I observed.
"Why should it be any more than with our own class?" retorted Warriner. "No, Campion is a bad nigger, and even Hampton-Sidney couldn't make him over."
"But about the arrest?" I urged.