As for Kenneth, he had forgotten his self-imposed inhibitions and prohibitions. Gone was the hesitation and doubt. He had seen a light where he had thought there was no light. His voice rang true and firm, and there was a look of eager earnestness on his face as the pale, flickering light from the oil lamps illumined it.
He finished with a flourish so dear to the hearts of coloured audiences. It was what the old-style coloured preacher used to call “de ’rousements.”
“You husbands and sons and brothers, three years ago you were called on to fight for liberty and justice and democracy! Are you getting it?” He was answered by a rousing “No!” “What are you going to do about it?” he demanded. “Single-handed, you can do nothing! Organized, you can strike a blow for freedom, not only for yourselves but for countless generations of coloured children yet unborn! No race in all history has ever had its liberties and rights handed to it on a silver platter—such rights can come only when men are willing to struggle and sacrifice and work and die, if need be, to obtain them! I call on you here tonight to join in this movement which shall in time strike from our hands and feet the shackles which bind them, that we may move on as a race together to that greater freedom which we have so long desired and which so long has been denied us! Only slaves and cowards whine and beg! Men and women stand true and firm and struggle onwards and upwards until they reach their goal!” He paused impressively while the audience sat mute. He looked over the assemblage for a full minute and then demanded in a ringing voice: “What do you choose to be slaves or men?”
He sat down. A salvo of applause greeted him. A Daniel had arisen to lead them! Kenneth took on a new importance and affection in the eyes and minds of his hearers. He had heard their Macedonian cry and answered it.
As he mopped his brow, Kenneth felt that he had made a good beginning, although he was a bit ashamed of having made so direct an appeal at the end to emotion instead of to reason. At the same time he knew that it had been necessary. “ ’Rousements” were absolutely essential to awaken the response needed to get the cooperative societies under way. Without them his humble audience might not have been aroused to the point of action that was so necessary.
Following Kenneth, Mr. Wilson made a stirring appeal to the crowd to come forward and give their names if they wanted to join the newly formed society. Those who had the money were urged to join at once. At first, only a few came forward. Then they came in numbers until around the table at which sat Secretary Tracy there was an excited, chattering, milling throng.
After the meeting Mr. Phillips accepted Mr. Wilson’s invitation to ride home in his car. Kenneth did not object—it enabled him to be alone with Jane. They talked of the meeting as they walked to the car. Jane gave Kenneth’s hand a faint squeeze. “Oh, Kenneth, you were splendid!” she declared.
It was a perfect night—one created for making love. A soft light filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting a lace-like shadow on the earth. The air was soft and languorous, as it can be only on a spring evening in the South, as soft and caressing as the touch of a baby’s hands. From near at hand came the mingled odour of honeysuckle and cape jasmine and magnolia blossoms and roses. The world seemed at peace. No sound disturbed the air save the chattering and singing of a mockingbird, as lovely as the sob of velvety, full-throated violins, and the voices, growing fainter and fainter, of the crowd leaving the now deserted church. It would have taken a much stronger man than Kenneth to resist the spell of so perfect an evening. He was not mawkishly sentimental—rather he detested the moon-calfish type of man who rolled his eyes and whispered empty, silly compliments in the ear of whatever girl he met. On the other hand, he was amazingly ignorant of women. As a youngster he had been exceedingly chary of the little girls of the neighbourhood, preferring to spend his time playing baseball or shooting marbles. This shyness had never entirely left him. From his youth on he had had but one strong passion in his life that passion had possessed his every thought and in it was centred his every ambition—his desire and determination to become a great surgeon. His one serious venture into the realm of lovemaking had been the affair with the girl in New York, but that had not taken a strong enough hold upon him to leave much of a mark. So rapidly had it begun and ended that he had had in it little experience in the great American sport of “petting.” It was thus easy for him to fall head over heels in love with Jane, for she was, in fact, the first girl in his life outside of his sister who had come into his life in more than a casual way.
Jane, on the other hand, had, innocently enough, flirted as every pretty girl (and many who are not pretty) will do. She appreciated Kenneth’s fine qualities: he was capable, industrious, and handsome in a way. He annoyed her at times by his almost bovine stupidity in expressing his love. She naturally liked the idea of having the love of a man who is naive, who has not run the whole gamut of emotions in affairs with other girls; yet, also naturally enough, she did expect him to have at least some savoir faire, to be able to
