“Mamma is not well,” said Iola to Robert. “I spoke to her about sending for a doctor, but she objected and I did not insist.”

“I will ask Dr. Latimer, whom I met at the Concordia, to step in. He is a splendid young fellow. I wish we had thousands like him.”

In the evening the doctor called. Without appearing to make a professional visit he engaged Marie in conversation, watched her carefully, and came to the conclusion that her failing health proceeded more from mental than physical causes.

“I am so uneasy about Harry,” said Mrs. Leroy. “He is so fearless and outspoken. I do wish the attention of the whole nation could be turned to the cruel barbarisms which are a national disgrace. I think the term ‘bloody shirt’ is one of the most heartless phrases ever invented to divert attention from cruel wrongs and dreadful outrages.”

Just then Iola came in and was introduced by her uncle to Dr. Latimer, to whom the introduction was a sudden and unexpected pleasure.

After an interchange of courtesies, Marie resumed the conversation, saying: “Harry wrote me only last week that a young friend of his had lost his situation because he refused to have his pupils strew flowers on the streets through which Jefferson Davis was to pass.”

“I think,” said Dr. Latimer, indignantly, “that the Israelites had just as much right to scatter flowers over the bodies of the Egyptians, when the waves threw back their corpses on the shores of the Red Sea, as these children had to strew the path of Jefferson Davis with flowers. We want our boys to grow up manly citizens, and not cringing sycophants. When do you expect your son, Mrs. Leroy?”

“Some time next week,” answered Marie.

“And his presence will do you more good than all the medicine in my chest.”

“I hope, Doctor,” said Mrs. Leroy, “that we will not lose sight of you, now that your professional visit is ended; for I believe your visit was the result of a conspiracy between Iola and her uncle.”

Dr. Latimer laughed, as he answered, “Ah, Mrs. Leroy, I see you have found us all out.”

“Oh, Doctor,” exclaimed Iola, with pleasing excitement, “there is a young lady coming here to visit me next week. Her name is Miss Lucille Delany, and she is my ideal woman. She is grand, brave, intellectual, and religious.”

“Is that so? She would make some man an excellent wife,” replied Dr. Latimer.

“Now isn’t that perfectly manlike,” answered Iola, smiling. “Mamma, what do you think of that? Did any of you gentlemen ever see a young woman of much ability that you did not look upon as a flotsam all adrift until some man had appropriated her?”

“I think, Miss Leroy, that the world’s work, if shared, is better done than when it is performed alone. Don’t you think your lifework will be better done if someone shares it with you?” asked Dr. Latimer, slowly, and with a smile in his eyes.

“That would depend on the person who shared it,” said Iola, faintly blushing.

“Here,” said Robert, a few evenings after this conversation, as he handed Iola a couple of letters, “is something which will please you.”

Iola took the letters, and, after reading one of them, said: “Miss Delany and Harry will be here on Wednesday; and this one is an invitation which also adds to my enjoyment.”

“What is it?” asked Marie; “an invitation to a hop or a german?”

“No; but something which I value far more. We are all invited to Mr. Stillman’s to a conversazione.”

“What is the object?”

“His object is to gather some of the thinkers and leaders of the race to consult on subjects of vital interest to our welfare. He has invited Dr. Latimer, Professor Gradnor, of North Carolina, Mr. Forest, of New York, Hon. Dugdale, Revs. Carmicle, Cantnor, Tunster, Professor Langhorne, of Georgia, and a few ladies, Mrs. Watson, Miss Brown, and others.”

“I am glad that it is neither a hop nor a german,” said Iola, “but something for which I have been longing.”

“Why, Iola,” asked Robert, “don’t you believe in young people having a good time?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Iola, seriously, “I believe in young people having amusements and recreations; but the times are too serious for us to attempt to make our lives a long holiday.”

“Well, Iola,” answered Robert, “this is the first holiday we have had in two hundred and fifty years, and you shouldn’t be too exacting.”

“Yes,” replied Marie, “human beings naturally crave enjoyment, and if not furnished with good amusements they are apt to gravitate to low pleasures.”

“Someone,” said Robert, “has said that the Indian belongs to an old race and looks gloomily back to the past, and that the negro belongs to a young race and looks hopefully towards the future.”

“If that be so,” replied Marie, “our race-life corresponds more to the follies of youth than the faults of maturer years.”

On Dr. Latimer’s next visit he was much pleased to see a great change in Marie’s appearance. Her eye had grown brighter, her step more elastic, and the anxiety had faded from her face. Harry had arrived, and with him came Miss Delany.

“Good evening, Dr. Latimer,” said Iola, cheerily, as she entered the room with Miss Lucille Delany. “This is my friend, Miss Delany, from Georgia. Were she not present I would say she is one of the grandest women in America.”

“I am very much pleased to meet you,” said Dr. Latimer, cordially; “I have heard Miss Leroy speak of you. We were expecting you,” he added, with a smile.

Just then Harry entered the room, and Iola presented him to Dr. Latimer, saying, “This is my brother, about whom mamma was so anxious.”

“Had you a pleasant journey?” asked Dr. Latimer, after the first greetings were over.

“Not especially,” answered Miss Delany. “Southern roads are not always very pleasant to travel. When Mr. Leroy entered the cars at A⁠⸺, where he was known, had he taken his seat among the white people he would have been remanded to the colored.”

“But after awhile,” said Harry, “as Miss Delany and myself were sitting together, laughing and chatting, a colored man entered the car, and, mistaking me for a white man, asked the conductor to have me removed, and I had to insist that I was colored in order to be permitted to remain. It would be ludicrous, if it were not vexatious, to be too white to be black, and too black to be white.”

“Caste plays such fantastic tricks in this country,” said Dr. Latimer.

“I tell Mr. Leroy,” said Miss Delany, “that when he returns he must put a label on himself, saying, ‘I am a colored man,’ to prevent annoyance.”