"I told you."
"You said that you gave him a piece of your mind--that doesn't mean
anything to me. Did you call him a murderer?"
"Of course I didn't--I hope I'm a lady."
"I've often hoped so, and maybe one of these days my hopes will be
realized. So you didn't call him a murderer? You lost a great
opportunity. Don't be offensive to him again, Evie," she said
quietly.
Evie did not reply. When Christina spoke in that tone of voice she
was frightened of her.
"What is Ambrose doing now?"
"I don't know--in the kitchen, I suppose, guzzling food. And I'm
starving! But I won't sit down at the same table as a black man, I
won't!"
"Don't be a fool, Evie. Go down and get some food. You can bring it
up here and eat it. And, Evie--Ambrose is a very dear friend of mine
and I dislike hearing you call him a 'black man'. He is almost as
white as you and I. His great grandfather was an Indian."
"If you don't like to hear me say unpleasant things about your
friends, don't say them about mine."
Here, Evie thought, not without reason, that she had a point which
was worth laboring. She was astonished when Christina surrendered
without firing another shot.
"Perhaps you are right, dear. Go and get something to eat."
Evie returned almost immediately with the news that the kitchen was
empty and that she had seen one whom she was pleased to describe as
"the enemy" bending over a wash-tub, his arms white with lather.
"Do you think he is making up to mother?" she asked, as that
interesting possibility presented itself.
Christina choked. "Don't say funny things when I'm eating candy,"
she begged.