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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Souls of Black Folk"

"I am afraid it does," he said.
"And, John, are you glad you studied?"
"Yes," came the answer, slowly but positively.
She watched the flickering lights upon the sea, and said
thoughtfully, "I wish I was unhappy,--and--and," putting
both arms about his neck, "I think I am, a little, John."
It was several days later that John walked up to the Judge's
house to ask for the privilege of teaching the Negro school.
The Judge himself met him at the front door, stared a little
hard at him, and said brusquely, "Go 'round to the kitchen
door, John, and wait." Sitting on the kitchen steps, John
stared at the corn, thoroughly perplexed. What on earth had
come over him? Every step he made offended some one. He
had come to save his people, and before he left the depot he
had hurt them. He sought to teach them at the church, and had
outraged their deepest feelings. He had schooled himself
to be respectful to the Judge, and then blundered into his
front door. And all the time he had meant right,--and yet,
and yet, somehow he found it so hard and strange to fit his
old surroundings again, to find his place in the world about
him.


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