improve himself in mind and character if he would hope to compete with
the Whites; bitter words and violence but weakened his cause.

This was sound commonsense, but the reverse of the sensational
entertainment Betty had half expected, and her eyes wandered from the
preacher to his congregation. There were all shades of Afro-American
colour and all degrees of prosperity represented. Coal-black women
were there, attired in deep and expensive mourning. "Yellow girls"
wore smart little tailor costumes. Three young girls, evidently of the
lower middle class of coloured society, for they were cheaply dressed,
had all the little airs and graces and mannerisms of the typical
American girl. In one corner a sleek mulatto with a Semitic profile
sat in the recognized attitude of the banker in church; filling his
corner comfortably and setting a worthy example to the less favoured
of Mammon.

But Betty's attention suddenly was arrested and held by two men who
sat on the opposite side of the aisle, although not together, and
apparently were unrelated. There were no others quite like them in the
church, but the conviction slowly forced itself into her mind,
magnetic for new impressions, that there were many elsewhere. They
were men who were descending the fifties, tall, with straight gray
hair. One was very slender, and all but distinguished of carriage; the
other was heavier, and would have been imposing but for the listless
droop of his shoulders. The features of both were finely cut, and
their complexions far removed from the reproach of "yellow." They
looked like sun-burned gentlemen.

For nearly ten minutes Betty stared, fascinated, while her mind
grappled with the deep significance of all those two sad and patient