By this time she didn't hear anything anybody said back—she'd got to that point in the argument.
"If," she says, positive, "if the Lord had intended dark-skinned folks to be different from what they are, he'd have seen to it by now."
I shifted with her obliging.
"Then," says I, "take the Fernandez family, in the Oldmoxon House. They're different. They're more different than you and I are. What you going to do about it?"
Mis' Sykes stamped her foot. "How do you know," she says, "that the Lord intended them to be educated? Tell me that!"
I sat looking down at her three-ply Ingrain carpet for a minute or two. Then I got up, and asked her for her chocolate frosting receipt.
"I'm going to use that on my cake for to-morrow night," I says. "And do you want me to help with the rest of the telephoning?"
"What do you mean?" she says, frigid. "You don't think for a minute I'm going on with that, I hope?"
"On with it?" I says. "Didn't you tell me you had the arrangements about all made?"