But, Mr. Killibrew, wouldn't you like better and more
trustworthy servants as cooks, as farm-hands, chauffeurs, stable-boys?
You see, you and your children and your children's children are going to
have to depend on negro labor, as far as we can see, to the end of
time."
"We-e-ell, yes," admitted Mr. Killibrew, who was not accustomed to
considering the end of time.
"Wouldn't it be better to have honest, self-respecting help than
dishonest help?"
"Certainly."
"Then let's think about cooks. How can one hope to rear an honest, self-
respecting citizenry as long as the mothers of the race are compelled to
resort to thievery to patch out an insufficient wage?"
"Why, I don't suppose niggers ever will be honest," admitted the grocer,
very frankly. "You naturally don't trust a nigger. If you credit one for
a dime, the next time he has any money he'll go trade somewhere else."
The grocer broke into his contagious laugh. "Do you know how I've built
up my business here, Peter? By never trusting a nigger." Mr. Killibrew
continued his pleased chuckle.
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