She started almost guiltily, and again a sense of the awkwardness of her position reddened her face and neck. The Colonel dismounted, despite her protest, and walked beside her. They chatted along indifferently, of the crops, her brother’s new baby, the proposed mill.
“Mary,” his voice abruptly struck a new note. “I don’t like the way you talk with that Alwyn nigger.”
She was silent.
‚ÄúOf course,‚Äù he continued, ‚Äúyou‚Äôre Northern born and you have been a teacher in this school and feel differently from us in some ways; but mark what I say, a nigger will presume on the slightest pretext, and you must keep them in their place. Then, too, you are a Cresswell now‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
She smiled bitterly; he noticed it, but went on:
‚ÄúYou are a Cresswell, even if you have caught Harry up to some of his deviltry,‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe started‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äúand got miffed about it. It‚Äôll all come out right. You‚Äôre a Cresswell, and you must hold yourself too high to ‚ÄòMister‚Äô a nigger or let him dream of any sort of equality.‚Äù
He spoke pleasantly, but with a certain sharp insistence that struck a note of fear in Mary’s heart.
For a moment she thought of writing Alwyn not to call. But, no; a note would be unwise. She and Colonel Cresswell lunched rather silently.
“Well, I must get to town,” he finally announced. “The mill directors meet today. If Maxwell calls by about that lumber tell him I’ll see him in town.” And away he went.