de upper place.”
“Well, I’ll see Aunt Rachel and ask her to send you to school.”
‚ÄúWon‚Äôt do no good‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe done ast, and Mr. ¬ÝCresswell, he say he ain‚Äôt going to have no more of his niggers‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But Mr. ¬ÝCresswell came out just then, and with him a big, fat, and greasy black man, with little eyes and soft wheedling voice. He was following Cresswell at the side but just a little behind, hat in hand, head aslant, and talking deferentially. Cresswell strode carelessly on, answering him with good-natured tolerance.
The black man stopped with humility before the trap and swept a profound obeisance. Cresswell glanced up quizzically at Miss Taylor.
“This,” he announced, “is Jones, the Baptist