“God’s sort.”
‚ÄúOh, well‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
But Miss Smith had the bit in her teeth and could not have stopped.
She was paying high for the privilege of talking, but it had to be said.
‚ÄúGod‚Äôs sort, Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool‚ÅÝ‚Äînot the sort that think of the world as arranged for their exclusive benefit and comfort.‚Äù
‚ÄúWell, I do want to count‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
Miss Smith bent forward‚ÅÝ‚Äînot a beautiful pose, but earnest.
‚ÄúI want you to count, and I want to count, too; but I don‚Äôt want us to be the only ones that count. I want to live in a world where every soul counts‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhite, black, and yellow‚ÅÝ‚Äîall. That‚Äôs what I‚Äôm teaching these children here‚ÅÝ‚Äîto count, and not to be like dumb, driven cattle. If you don‚Äôt believe in this, of course you cannot help us.‚Äù
“Your spirit is admirable, Miss Smith,” she had said very softly; “I only wish I could feel as you do. Good afternoon,” and she had rustled gently down the narrow stairs, leaving an all but imperceptible suggestion of perfume. Miss Smith could smell it yet as she went down this morning.
The breakfast bell jangled. ‚ÄúFive thousand dollars,‚Äù she kept repeating to herself, greeting the teachers absently‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äúfive thousand dollars.‚Äù And then on the porch she was suddenly aware of the awaiting boy. She eyed him critically: black, fifteen, country-bred, strong, clear-eyed.
“Well?” she asked in that brusque manner wherewith her natural timidity was wont to mask her kindness. “Well, sir?”