“Send it,” she counseled with strangely contradictory feelings of enthusiasm, and added: “Enter it under the name of Wynn.”
In addition to the general invitations to the art exhibit numbers of special ones were issued to promising Southern amateurs who had never exhibited. For these a prize of a long-term scholarship and other smaller prizes were offered.
When Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool suggested the name of ‚ÄúMiss Wynn‚Äù to Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell among a dozen others, for special invitation, there was nothing in its sound to distinguish it from the rest of the names, and the invitation went duly.
As a result there came to the exhibit a little group called “The Outcasts,” which was really a masterly thing and sent the director, Signor Alberni, into hysterical commendation.
In the private view and award of prizes which preceded the larger social function the jury hesitated long between ‚ÄúThe Outcasts‚Äù and a painting from Georgia. Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell was enthusiastic and voluble for the bit of sculpture, and it finally won the vote for the first prize.
All was ready for the great day. The President was coming and most of the diplomatic corps, high officers of the army, and all the social leaders. Congress would be well represented, and the boom for Cresswell as ambassador to France was almost visible in the air.
Mary Cresswell paused a moment in triumph looking back at the darkened hall, when a little woman fluttered up to her and whispered:
‚Äú Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell, have you heard the gossip?‚Äù
‚ÄúNo‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhat?‚Äù
“That Wynn woman they say is a nigger. Some are whispering that you brought her in purposely to force social equality. They say you used