"Yes—yes, precisely," said Mrs. Grey, "that's what I meant."
"I think the whites can attend to the duties of citizenship without help," observed Mr. Cresswell.
"Don't let the blacks meddle in politics," said Dr. Boldish.
"I want to make these children full-fledged men and women, strong, self-reliant, honest, without any 'ifs' and 'ands' to their development," insisted Miss Smith.
"Of course, and that is just what Mr. Cresswell wants. Isn't it, Mr. Cresswell?" asked Mrs. Grey.
"I think I may say yes," Mr. Cresswell agreed. "I certainly want these people to develop as far as they can, although Miss Smith and I would differ as to their possibilities. But it is not so much in the general theory of Negro education as in its particular applications where our chief differences would lie. I may agree that a boy should learn higher arithmetic, yet object to his loafing in plough-time. I might want to educate some girls but not girls like Zora."
Mrs. Vanderpool glanced at Mr. Cresswell, smiling to herself.
Mrs. Grey broke in, beaming:
"That's just it, dear Miss Smith,—just it. Your heart is good, but you need strong practical advice. You know we weak women are so impractical, as my poor Job so often said. Now, I'm going to arrange to endow this school with at least—at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. One condition is that my friend, Mr. Cresswell here, and these other gentlemen, including sound Northern business men like Mr. Easterly, shall hold this money in trust, and expend it for your school as they think best."
"Mr. Cresswell would be their local representative?" asked Miss Smith slowly with white face.