“I don’t know what I want to do,” was Bob’s troubled rejoinder. “I’ve seen too much of what’s going on around this town since papa died to be satisfied with school again. I’ve probably seen more of the real sordidness and meanness and deviltry of this place since I’ve been settling up papa’s affairs than you’ll see in five years. At any rate, I hope you don’t,” he finished somewhat doubtfully.
“Bob”—Kenneth walked over and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders—the trouble with you is that you’re too darned sensitive. I know things aren’t all they ought to be around here, but we’ve got to buckle down and make them that way. And perhaps I’ve seen more of this deviltry than you think.”
He told Bob of what had happened to Nancy Ware the night before. A long whistle of surprise escaped from Bob’s lips.
“And this happened right here in the coloured section?” he asked in surprise. Kenneth nodded in assent.
“I felt they were planning some mischief but I didn’t think they would have the nerve to come right here in ‘Darktown’ and do it. I wonder,” he said musingly, “if that dirty little Jim Archer who said those filthy things to Minnie Baxter that day is a member of the Klan. I passed him on Lee Street this morning and he grinned at me like a cat that has just eaten a fat mouse.”
“He may be,” Kenneth replied. “Nancy Ware told me last night she recognized the voices of Sheriff Parker and Henry Lane and George Parker and two or three other prominent white people here.”
“That settles it,” Bob answered determinedly. “When you first came back here I thought you were foolish to do so after having been in France. I said I was going to get out of this country as soon as I could and live in France or Brazil or any old place where a man isn’t judged by the colour of his skin. But I’ve decided that I’d be a coward if I did run away like that. Ken,” he said in voice that showed he had passed in spite of his years from childhood into the more serious things of manhood, “I’m going to Harvard this fall. I’m going to take whatever course I need to get into the law school. I’m going to make myself the best lawyer they can turn out. And then I’m coming back here to the South like you did and give my time to fighting for my people!”
Bob’s eyes flashed. In them was a light of high resolve such a look as might have shone in the eyes of Garibaldi or of Joan of Arc.
Kenneth said nothing, but he gripped Bob’s hand in his and there passed between the two brothers a look of mutual understanding and sympathy that was more potent and meaningful than words.
Kenneth went down to attend to his patients and nothing more was said of the incident between them. Bob took on a new interest in life. His moodiness, his brooding over the constant irritations and insults he had to suffer in his dealings as a coloured man with the whites of the town, his resentment at the attitude of condescension on the part of the poor and ignorant whites who had neither his intelligence, his education, nor his wealth—all these disappeared in his eager preparations for the new life he had mapped out for himself. He already saw himself a powerful champion of his race and he gloried in that vision with all of the impetuosity and idealistic fervour of youth.