" Peter was entirely at a loss.
"Oh, yes, we are," Cissie hurried on. "Why do colored girls straighten
their hair, bleach their skins, pinch their feet? Aren't they trying to
look like white girls?"
Peter agreed, wondering at her excitement.
"And you went North to college, Peter, so you could think and act like a
white man--"
Peter resisted this at once; he was copying nobody. The whole object of
college was to develop one's personality, to bring out--
The girl stopped his objections almost piteously.
"Oh, don't argue! You know arguing throws me off. I--now I've forgotten
how I meant to say it!" Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.
Her mood was alarming, almost hysterical. Peter began comforting her.
"There, there, dear, dear Cissie, what is the matter? Don't say it at
all." Then, inconsistently, he added: "You said I copied white men.
Well, what of it?"
Cissie breathed her relief at having been given the thread of her
discourse. She sat silent for a moment with the air of one screwing up
her courage.
"It's this," she said in an uncertain voice: "sometimes we--we--girls--
here in Niggertown copy the wrong thing first.
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