“Heh, heh, heh!” laughed Williams in a throaty chuckle. “These Negroes are figurin’ on takin’ some of these landlords to court that’s been cheatin’ them on their crops. Of course,” he added hastily, “that don’t need to worry you none, Mr. Stewart, but from what I hear, there are some ’round here that the news will worry.”
Stewart flushed, for he was conscious of a vague feeling that Williams might have been indirectly hitting at him when he had said that the court proceedings wouldn’t affect him. He fell back on the old custom of flattering and praising fulsomely the Negro from whom a white man wants information regarding the activities of other Negroes. Williams, like every other Negro in the South, knew what value to put on it, but he was playing a far deeper game than Stewart suspected.
“Doc, why ain’t all these niggers good, sensible ones like you? If all the niggers in the South were like you, there never would be any trouble.”
“That’s right, Mr. Stewart, that’s right. As I was sayin’ to some of the folks out your way this mornin’, they’d better stop followin’ after the fool ideas of these coloured men who’ve been up No’th.”
He looked at Stewart shrewdly and appraisingly to see if he had penetrated the subtlety of his remark. Stewart, slow of thought, had not fully done so, it seemed. Williams continued:
“You see, it’s like this, Mr. Stewart. Folks like you and me could live here for a hundred years and there’d never be no trouble. There’d never be no race problem if they was only like us. But”—and his voice took on a doubtful and sorrowful sound—“the most of this trouble we’re havin’ is caused by fool Negroes who go up No’th to school and run around with those coloured folks in New York and Chicago who tell ’em how bad we po’ coloured folks are bein’ treated in the South. They get all filled up with ‘social equality’ ideas, and then they come back down here and talk that stuff to these ignorant Negroes and get them all stirred up—”
Stewart was seeing more clearly what Williams was driving at.
“I see,” he said reflectively. “I alw’ys said too much education sp’iled niggers—that is, some niggers,” he added hastily for fear Williams might take offence before he had done with him. “Co’se it don’t bother sensible ones like you, Doc.” The last was said conciliatingly. “Let’s see, mos’ this trouble’s stahted since that other doctor’s been back, ain’t it?” he asked as casually as he could.
“I ain’t sayin’ who’s doin’ it,” replied Williams as he started the engine of his car. “But you’re a good guesser, Mr. Stewart,” he threw back over his shoulder as he drove away. …
Stewart clucked to his horse and rode in deep thought down the road. His mind was busy devising schemes to circumvent the action of the societies to take into court men like himself who had been robbing Negroes. They’d lose in the local courts, he knew, but suppose they raised enough money to take a case to the United States Supreme Court. No, that would never do! He’d see Parker and talk it over with him right away! He put the whip to his horse and drove rapidly into town. Mustn’t let the damn niggers organize, that would be hell! …
Kenneth was going about his business on the day following the meeting of the Klan that had been caused by Dr. Williams’ talk with Stewart, in blissful ignorance of the storm rapidly gathering about his head. His mind was intent on a number of things—but trouble on account of the cooperative societies was furthest from his mind. Had he been told there was any trouble, such news would probably have been greeted with a laugh of unconcern. All the white people of the South weren’t scoundrels and thieves like Stewart and Taylor and their kind! They were but a few. Besides the poor whites, the majority of whites would undoubtedly heartily approve his plan when it had been developed to the point where it could be made public.
But Kenneth thought of none of those things. His mind was too full of other events that loomed on the horizon. First, of course, he thought of Jane. He thought of his great good fortune in knowing a girl like her. There was a girl for you! He thought of the home he would build for her—he was mighty glad his father had been in fairly comfortable circumstances and that he had been successful in his practice. He would be able to build a mighty nice home for Jane. They wouldn’t bother with the cheap and flashy furniture, fumed oak or mission, to be obtained in Central City. Oh, no! Soon’s Mrs. Phillips was better, the three of them would go to Atlanta and buy everything they needed there. They’d have the best-looking home in Central City, white or coloured! His mother and Mamie wanted him to bring Jane into the house. He might do that … but the house which had seemed so comfortable before, now seemed too ordinary to bring a girl like Jane to. … He’d talk that over with her tonight. … And then after a time there might be a little Jane … and a Kenneth, Jr. … Kenneth laughed softly to himself as he saw Jane and himself sitting by the fire of an evening with two little rascals playing on the floor. … And later they’d go off to school. He’d see that they got the best there was in life. … So his thoughts ran.
And then he thought of Roy Ewing and the operation of the night before. Must have been a mighty terrible ordeal for them to have to call a Negro in to operate on their daughter. Race prejudice is a funny thing! A white man will eat food prepared by black hands, have it served by black hands, have his children nursed by a black nurse who most of the time
