It irritated him unreasonably.
"See the washer-woman in red," he whispered. "Look at the monkey. Come,
let's go."
They trooped noisily down-stairs, and Cresswell walked unceremoniously
between a black man and his partner. Mrs. Vanderpool recognized and
greeted the girl as Miss Wynn. Mrs. Cresswell did not notice her, but
she paused with a start of recognition at the sight of the man.
"Why, Bles!" she exclaimed impetuously, starting to hold out her hand.
She was sincerely pleased at seeing him. Then she remembered. She bowed
and smiled, looking at him with interest and surprise. He was correctly
dressed, and the white shirt set off the comeliness of his black face in
compelling contrast. He carried himself like a man, and bowed with
gravity and dignity. She passed on and heard her husband's petulant
voice in her ear.
"Mary--Mary! for Heaven's sake, come on; don't shake hands with
niggers."
It was recurring flashes of temper like this, together with evidences of
dubious company and a growing fondness for liquor, that drove Mary
Cresswell more and more to find solace in the work of Congressman Todd's
Civic Club. She collected statistics for several of the Committee, wrote
letters, interviewed a few persons, and felt herself growing in
usefulness and importance. She did not mention these things to her
husband; she knew he would not object, but she shrank from his ridicule.
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