y down in de mouth, an' sezee:--

"'Look a-here, w'at made you come an' stop at my place widout tellin'
me you wuz a black man? Befo' you come th'ough dis town I had a
fus'-class business. But w'en folks found out dat a nigger had put up
here, business drapped right off, an' I've had ter shet up my hotel.
You oughter be 'shamed er yo'se'f fer ruinin' a po' man w'at had n'
never done no harm ter you. You've done a mean, low-lived thing, an' a
jes' God'll punish you fer it.'

"De po' man acshully bust inter tears," continued Mr. Wain
magnanimously, "an' I felt so sorry fer 'im--he wuz a po' white man
tryin' ter git up in de worl'--dat I hauled out my purse an' gin 'im
ten dollars, an' he 'peared monst'ous glad ter git it."

"How good-hearted! How kin'!" murmured the ladies. "It done credit to
yo' feelin's."

"Don't b'lieve a word er dem lies," muttered one young man to another
sarcastically. "He could n' pass fer white, 'less'n it wuz a mighty
dark night."

Upon this glorious evening of his life, Mr. Jefferson Wain had one
distinctly hostile critic, of whose presence he was blissfully
unconscious. Frank Fowler had not been invited to the party,--his
family did not go with Mary B.'s set. Rena had suggested to her mother
that he be invited, but Mis' Molly had demurred on the ground that it
was not her party, and that she had no right to issue invitations. It
is quite likely that she would have sought an invitation for Frank from
Mary B.; but Frank was black, and would not harmonize with the rest of
the company, who would not have Mis' Molly's reasons for treating him
well. She had compromised the matter by stepping across the way in the
afternoon and suggesting that Frank might come over and sit on the back
porch and look at the dancing and share in the supper.

Frank was not without a certain honest pride. He was sensitive enough,
too, not to care to go where he was not wanted. He would have curtly
refused any such maimed invitation to any other place. But would he
not see Rena in her best attire, and might she not perhaps, in passing,
speak a word to him?

"Thank y', Mis' Molly," he replied, "I'll prob'ly come over."

"You're a big fool, boy," observed his father after Mis' Molly had gone
back across the street, "ter be stickin' roun' dem yaller niggers
'cross de street, an' slobb'rin' an' slav'rin' over 'em, an' hangin'
roun' deir back do' wuss 'n ef dey wuz w'ite folks. I'd see 'em dead
fus'!"

Fra