positions he would make sure to be paid well for them." Mrs. Pickens was
tired, she was always tired on Sunday, it being the maid's easiest and
her hardest day; and Dick was disgusted that yesterday's happiness had
been spirited away with the morning. So the conversation lagged and only
as the meal was almost concluded did it take an unexpected and exciting
turn.

It was Miss Wood who began it. "You are from the South, I think, Miss
Ogilvie?" she said, addressing Hertha.

"Yes," answered Hertha.

"So am I," called out Dick.

"I am aware of that fact," Miss Wood went on in anything but a cordial
tone, "but I wished to ask Miss Ogilvie's opinion on a certain question.
I was reading in a magazine to-day," she looked across at Hertha,
ignoring the young man at the table's head, "in an article by a southern
physician, a man, I understand, of some note, a very sweeping statement.
In writing of the Negroes he said that he was confident there was not a
pure colored woman in the country above the age of sixteen."

Mrs. Pickens choked over her bread and butter. She had not been brought
up to discuss sociological questions and she deeply disapproved of the
way Miss Wood frequently introduced them, especially at meal time. Last
week they had been treated to a shocking tale of reformatories, but this
was the first time they had been drawn into the social evil. Looking at
Hertha, she expected to see her with drooping head murmuring a gentle
nothing. But she was mistaken. The southern girl's face was on fire,
with anger, not shame.

"It's not true," she said.

"And I say it _is_ true," cried Dick, bringing his fist down on the
table. "That doctor knew what he was writing about. It's damned true,
every word of it."

He gulped as he realized he had been guilty of swearing, but Miss Wood,
who was in control of the conversation, paid no attention to him. "I am
interested in what you say," she went on to Hertha, "for it agrees with
my own impression. I have not met many colored people in my work, but I
have had a few cases among them, and while I have seen degradation it
has not seemed to me any greater than that among the whites of the same
class. Such a sweeping statement as this is unjust."

"It's wicked," said Hertha, addressing Miss Wood. Despite every effort
at control, she found her chin trembling and her voice shaking a little.
"I have known many colored women, servants and teachers, and I know they
were pure and good.