to ask you a plain question. You've been trying to pick a quarrel of late. What have I done?"
"Nothing. It has simply come to me that our lives are far apart. The gulf between us is real and very deep. Your father was but yesterday a slaveholder"
Ben grinned:
"Yes, your slave-trading grandfather sold them to us the day before."
Elsie blushed and bristled for a fight.
"You won't mind if I give you a few lessons in history, will you?" Ben asked softly.
"Not in the least. I didn't know that Southerners studied history," she answered, with a toss of her head.
"We made a specialty of the history of slavery, at least. I had a dear old teacher at home who fairly blazed with light on this subject. He is one of the best-read men in America. He happens to be in jail just now. But I haven't forgotten—I know it by heart."
"I am waiting for light," she interrupted, cynically.
"The South is no more to blame for Negro slavery than the North. Our slaves were stolen from Africa by Yankee skippers. When a slaver arrived at Boston, your pious Puritan clergyman offered public prayer of thanks that 'A gracious and overruling Providence had been pleased to bring to this land of freedom another cargo of benighted heathen to enjoy the blessings of a gospel dispensation'"
She looked at him with angry incredulity and cried:
"Go on."
"Twenty-three times the Legislature of Virginia passed
