encyclopædias, and census-reports. When he went to that little lunch
with old Mrs. Grey he was not sure that he wanted his sister to leave
the cotton-belt just yet. After lunch he was sure that he did not want
her to leave.

The rich Mrs. Grey was at the crisis of her fortunes. She was an elderly
lady, in those uncertain years beyond fifty, and had been left suddenly
with more millions than she could easily count. Personally she was
inclined to spend her money in bettering the world right off, in such
ways as might from time to time seem attractive. This course, to her
husband's former partner and present executor, Mr. Edward Easterly, was
not only foolish but wicked, and, incidentally, distinctly unprofitable
to him. He had expressed himself strongly to Mrs. Grey last night at
dinner and had reinforced his argument by a pointed letter written this
morning.

To John Taylor Mrs. Grey's disposal of the income was unbelievable
blasphemy against the memory of a mighty man. He did not put this in
words to Mrs. Grey--he was only head clerk in her late husband's
office--but he became watchful and thoughtful. He ate his soup in
silence when she descanted on various benevolent schemes.

"Now, what do you know," she asked finally, "about Negroes--about
educating them?" Mr. Taylor over his fish was about to deny all
knowledge of any sort on the subject, but all at once he recollected his
sister, and a sudden gleam of light radiated his mental gloom.

"Have a sister who is--er--devoting herself to teaching them," he said.

"Is that so!" cried Mrs. Grey, joyfully. "Where is she?"