Cresswell, have you heard the gossip?"
"No--what?"
"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 to
teach darkies. Of course, I don't believe all their talk, but I thought
you ought to know." She talked a while longer, then fluttered furtively
away.
Mrs. Cresswell sat down limply. She saw ruin ahead--to think of a black
girl taking a prize at an all-Southern art exhibit! But there was still
a chance, and she leaped to action. This colored woman was doubtless
some poor deserving creature. She would call on her immediately, and by
an offer of abundant help induce her to withdraw quietly.
Entering her motor, she drove near the address and then proceeded on
foot. The street was a prominent one, the block one of the best, the
house almost pretentious. She glanced at her memorandum again to see if
she was mistaken. Perhaps the woman was a domestic; probably she was,
for the name on the door was Stillings. It occurred to her that she had
heard that name before--but where? She looked again at her memorandum
and at the house.
She rang the bell, asking the trim black maid: "Is there a person named
Caroline Wynn living in this house?"
The girl smiled and hesitated.
"Yes, ma'am," she finally replied. "Won't you come in?" She was shown
into the parlor, where she sat down.
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