"Well, wait a moment. Let's see. Sit down. Wish I had a cigar for you, but I don't smoke."
"Do you happen to have any whiskey handy?"
"No, I don't drink."
"Well, what the devil--Oh, well, fire away."
"Now, see here. We control the Grey millions. Of course, we've got to let her play with her income, and that's considerable. Her favorite game just now is Negro education, and she's planning to go in heavy. Her adviser in this line, however, is Smith, and he belongs to us."
"What Smith?"
"Why, the man who's going to be Senator from New Jersey. He has a sister teaching in the South--you know, of course; it's at your home where my sister Mary taught."
"Great Scott! Is that woman's brother going to spend this money? Why, are you daft? See here! American cotton-spinning supremacy is built on cheap cotton; cheap cotton is built on cheap niggers. Educating, or rather trying to educate niggers, will make them restless and discontented--that is, scarce and dear as workers. Don't you see you're planning to cut off your noses? This Smith School, particularly, has nearly ruined our plantation. It's stuck almost in our front yard; you are planning to put our plough-hands all to studying Greek, and at the same time to corner the cotton crop--rot!"
John Taylor caressed his lean jaw.
"New point of view to me; I sort of thought education would improve things in the South," he commented, unmoved.
"It would if we ran it."
"We?"
"Yes--we Southerners."
"Um!--I see--there's light. See here, let's talk to Easterly about this." They went into the next office, and after a while got audience with the trust magnate. Mr. Easterly heard the matter carefully and waved it aside.
"Oh, that doesn't concern us, Taylor; let Cresswell take care of the whole thing. We'll see that Smith does what Cresswell wants."
But Taylor shook his head.
"Smith would kick. Mrs. Grey would get suspicious, and the devil be to pay. This is better. Form a big committee of Northern business men like yourself--philanthropists like Vanderpool, and Southerners like Cresswell; let them be a sort of Negro Education steering-committee. We'll see that on such committee you Southerners get what you want--control of Negro education."
"That sounds fair. But how about the Smith School? My father writes me that they are showing signs of expecting money right off--is that true? If it is, I want it stopped; it will ruin our campaign for the Farmers' League."
John Taylor looked at Cresswell. He thought he saw something more than general policy, or even racial prejudice--something personal--in his vehemence. The Smith School was evidently a severe thorn in the flesh of this man. All the more reason for mollifying him. Then, too, there was something in his argument. It was not wise to start educating these Negroes and getting them discontented just now. Ignorant labor was not ideal, but it was worth too much to employers to lose it now. Educated Negro labor might be worth more to Negroes, but not to the cotton combine. "H'm--well, then--" and John Taylor went into a brown study, while Cresswell puffed impatiently at a cigarette.