“Yes, Tuesday night.”
“Well, don’t you know that they’re Catholics?”
“Who, the Perrys and the McBrides?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t thought about it at all, but what if they are? McCall is a Catholic, too.”
“Well, you know, dear, that Catholics can’t belong to the Trick Track Tribe.”
“Well, what of it? I can’t belong to the Knights of Columbus. But I think Mr. Perry and Jack both belong. Yes, I remember they do. That never kept them from inviting us. No, that’s impossible. Why some of our most prominent men here are Catholics. Half, say a third anyway, of the Corinth Club are Catholics. What’s belonging to a lodge got to do with it anyway?”
“Well, you may call them, dear, if you wish. Certainly I have no objections. Personally I should be glad to have both Mrs. Perry and Mrs. McBride over. But—well, you call them.”
Hamilton frowned. As he kept growing older he kept bumping into stronger and more surprising prejudices. At three he had learned of the existence of that line between the whites and the blacks. At seven he learned the sharp distinction between the rich and the poor. Next it had been Jew and Gentile. For a few years he had almost forgotten about these social barriers. Now came the most surprising one of all, the most difficult to understand.
Jack Perry and Tom McBride were both at home—it was nearly six—and expressed their delight at the invitation. The Perrys were out of the city, but Tom would ask his parents to come.