sure. She always
roused hostility as she entered: her gown was too handsome, her gloves
too spotless, her air had hauteur enough to be almost impudent in the
opinion of most white people. Then gradually her intelligence, her cool
wit and self-possession, would conquer and she would go gracefully out
leaving a rather bewildered audience behind. She sat today with her dark
gold profile toward Zora, and the girl looked and was glad. She was such
a woman she would have Bles marry. She was glad, and she choked back the
sob that struggled and fought in her throat.

The meeting never got beyond a certain constraint. The Congressman made
an excellent speech; there were various sets of figures read by the
workers; and Miss Wynn added a touch of spice by several pertinent
questions and comments. Then, as the meeting broke up and Mrs. Cresswell
came forward to speak to Zora, Mrs. Vanderpool managed to find herself
near Miss Wynn and to be introduced. They exchanged a few polite
phrases, fencing delicately to test the other's wrist and interest. They
touched on the weather, and settlement work; but Miss Wynn did not
propose to be stranded on the Negro problem.

"I suppose the next bit of excitement will be in the inauguration," she
said to Mrs. Vanderpool.

"I understand it will be unusually elaborate," returned Mrs. Vanderpool,
a little surprised at the turn. Then she added pleasantly: "I think I
shall see it through, from speech to ball."

"Yes, I do usually," Miss Wynn asserted, adjusting her furs.

Mrs. Vanderpool was further surprised. Did colored people attend the
ball?

"We sorely need a national ball-room," she said. "Isn't the census
building wretched?"

"I do not know," smiled Miss Wynn.

"Oh, I thought you said--"

"I meant _our_ ball."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Vanderpool in turn. "Oh!" Here a thought came. Of
course, the colored people had their own ball; she remembered having
heard about it. Why not send Zora? She plunged in:

"Miss Wynn, I have a maid--such an intelligent girl; I do wish she could
attend your ball--" seeing her blunder, she paused. Miss Wynn was coolly
buttoning her glove.

"Yes," she acknowledged politely, "few of us can afford maids, and
therefore we do not usually arrange for them; but I think we can have
your _protegee_ look on from the gallery. Good-afternoon."

As Mrs. Vanderpool drove home she related the talk to Zora. Zora was
silent at first. Then she said deliberately:

"Miss Wynn