"And the teachers, because they are looked to, should help as much as they can with their higher intelligence, for the mothers are too ignorant and too depraved to do so. But of the many churches, of which seventy are Baptist, not one has any connection or interest in a school here, directly or indirectly." "I begin to think you are going to lose your mind, if you don't quit seeing the many iniquities of our people. If you would only see what the good people are doing, and try to interest yourself more in them, you would be happier," she said. He sighed now, and then said to himself: "What's the use." "Quit it all, Sidney," she said softly, calling him for the first time by his first name. "Quit all this worry about these nigga's and be yourself; be sweet." And she kissed him. CHAPTER FIFTEEN "_Wilson, Wilson! Mildred Is Gone!_" "Wilson, Wilson! Mildred is gone, Mildred is gone!" cried Constance, ringing her hands despairingly. "Gone," he breathed, uncomprehendingly. "Yes, gone." His sister sank into a chair, and gave up to a flood of tears. "But why?" he cried, only now seeming to understand that she had actually left them. "I don't know, I don't know," she moaned. "This is certainly a mystery. Surely dear, you are mistaken," he insisted, greatly disturbed. "Mildred would surely not have left us so unceremoniously. And, besides--why, she--she, Constance, why she gave one hundred and fifty dollars to the Christian association movement only today. And you cannot mean that she has gone! It is hardly possible!" "I only wish it were not so; but come," and, taking his hand, she led him to the room Mildred had occupied. It was deserted, save for the furniture that belonged there. Only once had he seen the inside of it while she occupied it. And now it did not appear the same; because then, it was decorated with much lace and woman's needle work and picture postals. But, strange as he had thought, when he happened to glance into it before, there were no pictures of girls and men, young or old, nobody excepting the picture of the author of the book which she sold, and which had been taken from the frontispiece. "This is the way I found it when I came home a few minutes ago," she said, resigned. "I cannot make it out; I cannot make anything out, except that the sweetest friend, the dearest girl I ever knew, has disappeared strangely." "She sang at the meeting only a few hours ago, and sang as I never heard her sing before. She was, moreover, in the best of spirits all day, and was so enthusiastic over the meeting. Dear me," he sighed wearily. "If she had only left some word; given some hint that she was going to leave, but, of course she knew, and couldn't tell us, so there is no use at all. She's gone and I cannot imagine how much I am going to miss her."