Marrow of Tradition, The The. Charles Waddell Chesnutt

personal reasons, apart from Dr. Miller's color, why his presence in this house would be distasteful. With this statement, sir, I throw myself upon your mercy. My child's life is worth more to me than any earthly thing, and I must be governed by your decision."

      Dr. Burns was plainly wavering. The clock moved with provoking slowness.

       Miller would be there in five minutes.

      "May I speak with you privately a moment, doctor?" asked Dr. Price.

      They withdrew from the room and were engaged in conversation for a few moments. Dr. Burns finally yielded.

      "I shall nevertheless feel humiliated when I meet Miller again," he said, "but of course if there is a personal question involved, that alters the situation. Had it been merely a matter of color, I should have maintained my position. As things stand, I wash my hands of the whole affair, so far as Miller is concerned, like Pontius Pilate—yes, indeed, sir, I feel very much like that individual."

      "I'll explain the matter to Miller," returned Dr. Price, amiably, "and make it all right with him. We Southern people understand the negroes better than you do, sir. Why should we not? They have been constantly under our interested observation for several hundred years. You feel this vastly more than Miller will. He knows the feeling of the white people, and is accustomed to it. He wishes to live and do business here, and is quite too shrewd to antagonize his neighbors or come where he is not wanted. He is in fact too much of a gentleman to do so."

      "I shall leave the explanation to you entirely," rejoined Dr. Burns, as they reëntered the other room.

      Carteret led the way to the nursery, where the operation was to take place. Dr. Price lingered for a moment. Miller was not likely to be behind the hour, if he came at all, and it would be well to head him off before the operation began.

      Scarcely had the rest left the room when the doorbell sounded, and a servant announced Dr. Miller.

      Dr. Price stepped into the hall and met Miller face to face.

      He had meant to state the situation to Miller frankly, but now that the moment had come he wavered. He was a fine physician, but he shrank from strenuous responsibilities. It had been easy to theorize about the negro; it was more difficult to look this man in the eyes—whom at this moment he felt to be as essentially a gentleman as himself—and tell him the humiliating truth.