He continued:

“These same folks, however, don’t want you to come down too close. Like all people with little education, whether they’re black, white, or any other colour, they like to look up to their leaders. So I use a few big words now and then which have a grand and rolling sound, and they feel that I am even more wonderful because I do know how to use big words but don’t use them often.”

He paused while Kenneth looked at this man and saw him in a new light. He had known that Mr. Wilson, many years before coming to Central City, had attended a theological seminary in Atlanta, and he had wondered how a man could attend a school of theology of any standing and yet use such poor English. It had never occurred to him that it might be deliberate.

“And then there’s another reason,” continued Reverend Wilson. “The white folks here are mighty suspicious of any Negro who has too much learning, according to their standards. They figure he’ll be stirring up the Negroes to fighting back when any trouble arises. I had to make a decision many years ago. I decided that somebody had to help these poor coloured folks bear their burdens, and to comfort and cheer them. I knew that if I came out and said the things I thought and felt, I would either be taken out of my house some night and lynched, or else I’d be run out of town. So I decided that I’d smile and bear it and be what the white folks think they want—what the coloured folks call a ‘white man’s nigger.’ It’s been mighty hard, but the Lord has given me the strength somehow or other to stand it this far.”

With his deliberately imperfect English, there had gone from the preacher’s face the subservient smile. Kenneth felt his heart warming to this man. He found his feeling of distaste and repulsion dissipating, now that the shell had been removed and he saw beneath the surface. The simile of the protective device of the chameleon came to his mind. Yes, the Negro in the South had many things in common with the chameleon—he had to be able to change his colour figuratively to suit the environment of the South in order to be allowed to stay alive. His own trouble with the Parkers and Lane seemed much more trivial now than before. He looked at Mr. Wilson and asked:

“What’s the purpose of this meeting to-night? How can I help, Reverend Wilson?”

“It’s like this. A good part of my congregation is made up of folks who live out in the country. They’ve had a lot of trouble for years getting honest settlements from the landlords on whose land they work. Within the last five years, two of my members have been lynched when they wouldn’t stand for being cheated any longer. The folks out there are in a pretty bad way, and they want us to advise with them as to the best way to act. I haven’t time to go into the details now, but it’ll all be taken up to-night. Can I count on your being there? We need a man like you, with your education.”

Kenneth deliberated several minutes before giving his answer. What Mr. Wilson wanted him to do was just exactly what he had determined not to do. But what harm could come from attending the meeting? If he didn’t want to take any part in the plans, he didn’t have to. Anyhow, it seemed that the more a man tried to keep away from the race question, the mo more deeply involved he became in it. Might as well do what little he could to help, if he didn’t have to take too prominent a part. He’d go anyway. He told Reverend Wilson they could look for him that night.

CHAPTER VIII

Kenneth was late in reaching the meeting-place that night. When he arrived he found all there waiting for him. Besides himself and Mr. Wilson were the Reverend Richard Young, pastor of Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church, and Herbert Phillips, Jane’s father. There were also three men from the farming district whom Kenneth did not know, but who were introduced as Tom Tracy, Hiram Tucker, and James Swann.