‚ÄúBy the by, I met some charming Alabama people last winter, in Montgomery‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Cresswells; do you know them?‚Äù she asked one day, as they were lounging in wicker chairs on the Vanderpool porch. Then she answered the query herself: ‚ÄúNo, of course you could not. It is too bad that your work deprives you of the society of people of your class. Now my ideal is a set of Negro schools where the white teachers could know the Cresswells.‚Äù
‚ÄúWhy, yes‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù faltered Miss Taylor; ‚Äúbut‚ÅÝ‚Äîwouldn‚Äôt that be difficult?‚Äù
“Why should it be?”
“I mean, would the Cresswells approve of educating Negroes?”
“Oh, ‘educating’! The word conceals so much. Now, I take it the Cresswells would object to instructing them in French and in dinner etiquette and tea-gowns, and so, in fact, would I; but teach them how to handle a hoe and to sew and cook. I have reason to know that people like the Cresswells would be delighted.”
“And with the teachers of it?”
‚ÄúWhy not?‚ÅÝ‚Äîprovided, of course, they were‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, gentlefolk and associated accordingly.‚Äù
“But one must associate with one’s pupils.”
‚ÄúOh, certainly, certainly; just as one must associate with one‚Äôs maids and chauffeurs and dressmakers‚ÅÝ‚Äîcordially and kindly, but with a difference.‚Äù
‚ÄúBut‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut, dear Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, you wouldn‚Äôt want your children trained that way, would you?‚Äù